Pleading the Fifth
by DrinksJuiceWhenKilling
Summary: Frerard. Gerard Way and Frank Iero meet as teenagers, and though they grow close during the summer they spend together, they are pulled apart. Seven years pass before they can see each other again, and under the new circumstances their relationship may not be the simple friendship they remember.
1. Chapter 1

**_"Stop making us have sex with each other..." -Ray Toro_**

A heavy bass line pulsated throughout the dark club, reverberating throughout every jumping or lounging body in the place. With the bands that played in The Void, this was usually the case as a matter of style, but tonight's group just had their sound levels way out of balance. Gerard couldn't even tell whether the guitarist was playing. He didn't think of himself as an amazing musician; he was growing stagnate, in fact, trapped by an inability to sing over his own guitar playing. However, he knew how music was supposed to be played. In his head he had so many ideas that just knew would be brilliant if he only had a place to apply them, and seeing this band with a full set of members yet not achieving anything near what he knew could be done was perhaps the only thing that could sink his currently soaring spirits.

Luckily, even this travesty failed to smother the auspicious air that surrounded the night. It was the first Saturday night after Gerard's high school graduation, and he was ready to immerse himself in the real world. Finally free from that hellhole, anything could happen. School was supposed to give you a direction in life, but he had always known that it would never do that for him. If anything, it taught him that people were cruel. He didn't mind so much having gone, though; the way he saw it, if you don't go to high school, you will definitely go to jail. But now, now that he was free to do whatever he wanted, he could run off into anything and find something wonderful.

Gerard stood, for now, uncomfortably in a corner of the club sketching on a napkin. He effortlessly considered his options as to what he could do next in this new world of possibilities. Music had always held his interest, which was why he was at The Void, the most adequate rock club offered in his particular piece of New Jersey, but he needed a band in order to pursue it the way he wanted. Finding people right now to constitute the members would be a problem, though, for the same reason he was at The Void alone; Gerard had very few friends. The person he was closest to was honestly his little brother, but Mikey didn't even play an instrument. To pass time alone, other than drinking, Gerard had sought refuge in the comic store, and as he continued his sketch, he considered being a comic book artist a pretty favorable path. He guessed he'd go to college for art. It made sense enough.

Almost done, Gerard looked back up to the wall he had been sketching, with the piled broken bottles, but his view was obstructed. Wandering in with a couple of rowdy looking guys was a timid-looking boy uncomfortably posed with one arm grasped in the hand of the other and his eyes glued to the stage. Gerard had never seen this kid before, but he looked young, too young to be here, and he was clearly out of place among the people he had come in with who were already pushing themselves onto unimpressed women. He was uncannily good-looking, though, and not in a generic way. The boy was attractive in a way that Gerard instinctively knew was drawing his interest specifically, and as he temporarily forgot his drawing, he let his eyes linger on this new face that, despite its initial group, was just as alone in the club as Gerard.

The boy's head then turned as if someone was calling him, and Gerard shot his eyes back down to his work. Peering furtively upward after a moment, Gerard saw that the boy had moved, but more crowds were now moving past the subject of his art. He took one last look around the club, and decided to call it a night. Out the door he went, right into one of the bigger guys who had come in with the boy.

"Sorry," mumbled Gerard.

"Just watch it," said the towering frame.

Gerard was about to carry on his way when out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy of striking appearance. He had been hoping for that.

The older guy had turned back to his conversation with the boy. "What the hell did you think you were doing, Frankie? Look, I need to get back in there to Jenny, and once I do, she and I are out of here so you're gonna have to as Rick for a ride."

"You've got to be kidding me!" 'Frankie' indignantly exclaimed. "How am I supposed to-"

"You're just going to have to figure it out," the older one offered as he barreled his way back inside, adding, "What the hell, man?" as collided with Gerard. He didn't stick around though, for he was too intent on getting back to 'Jenny'.

"Jackass," 'Frankie' murmured, "Sorry about that, by the way."

Gerard was taken aback by the apology, but he managed to answer with, "It's fine. Definitely not your fault… I guess you aren't having the best night, huh?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, it's not the greatest. That douchebag you just met is my cousin, and he was sort of forced to take me here with him."

"The other guy he mentioned, though, Rick, he's the one with the responsibility?"

"Pretty doubtful. He wanted me here even less than my cousin, and there's no way in hell he'll give me a ride home. Anyway, how has your night been?"

"It's been decent. I mean, I just got out of high school, finally. How bad could tonight be?"

"Oh, congratulations… I'm Frank, by the way."

"Gerard."

After a moment of uncomfortable shifting, Gerard attempted to pierce the silence. "What do you think of the music here?"

"It's alright, I guess. I like watching people play. Their sound levels are pretty off, though."

"You know what you're talking about."

"I guess… I play guitar."

"Nice. I play a bit myself," Gerard commented as he sat down against the nearest wall, and Frank followed suit. Right after they did this, Frank's cousin came back out of the club with a girl Gerard assumed to be Jenny and made for his car.

"And if you look to your right," humorously narrated Frank, "you'll see the confirmation that I will be catching a bus home tonight."

Silence encompassed the two boys once more as they watched the invigorated legs of late-night passerby.

"So," began Gerard uncertainly, stalling as he thought of a question. "Who do you listen to?"

"A lot of Green Day, to be honest. Watching Billie Joe go me to play. How about you?"

"Iron Maiden, Bowie, Misfits… It can be difficult to find a lot of good stuff if you don't look hard enough."

"I guess that's pretty true."

"There's a lack of sex in music. I'd fix that if I ever got another band together."

"Do you think that's what you might want to do? Be in a band?"

"I guess. Maybe. That or comic books. Mainly, I want to get out of New Jersey for a while and see what else is out there."

"Really? I love it here. I like, well, the dirtiness of it."

"Ah, I guess I get it. For me I find that the Jersey mentality is: I work, I drink, I stay up all night, I try to meet a girl; it's a waste of time. I don't want to spend my life only here in with all that. Even if I can't go places with the music or the drawing, fuck art. I've gotta get out of the basement. I've gotta see the world. I've gotta make a difference."

"It must be nice to be able to act on thoughts like that. I know that I'll wake up in September and be back in school. I do well and all, but there I don't have a choice other than to go."

"School… school is like a meat grinder."

"How so?"

"It just always felt like that to me. It chews you up and pours out this mess that can't function."

"I suppose that's kind of true."

Their conversation continued through every last basic topic the two could think to cover before the number of people traversing the street before them had been decimated to half of what it had been only an hour before.

Frank asked, "Do you know where a bus stop is?"

"Yeah, just a few streets down. Do you want me to show you?"

"That would be great, thanks."

Thoroughly drained of first-conversation topics, the walk to the bus stop was a silent one. When Frank could see the bench, he spoke again.

"Thanks for sticking around with me. You didn't have to do that."

"It was no problem. Trust me, talking to an actual person was much better than anything I could have been doing at home, and you are a pretty good person to talk to."

In a stroke of luck, the bus soon came, and as Gerard stepped closer to the bus to say goodbye, Frank saw in the light Gerard's face, illuminated for the first time that night. He had beautiful eyes. Just, wow. Frank watched the person with whom he had just spoken to walk away, black leather jacket hanging perfectly off his back, and suddenly his night didn't seem at all like the failure he had expected.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks later, Gerard was back at The Void. He had been attending whenever he was free, which was essentially every night, and he told himself time and time again that he was going for the music that, to be fair, was sometimes pretty good, or the atmosphere, which was dangerous on a particularly auspicious night and on all others lovably dingy. He knew, though, he was hoping to see Frank. His thoughts weren't lustful because the time he had spent with the kid had proven to him that Frank was too young to be, well, sexualized or anything like that. Gerard was just genuinely drawn to him.

Tonight, though, Gerard had more reasons than those to be stalking the brick walls of The Void. The evening's band was to be something special, for they had been some of his biggest persecutors in high school. What made it worse was that they had what Gerard could only dream of, a band and a following, but as it was with so many of the local bands, Gerard was pained by the knowledge that they had all the resources they needed but could do so much better. No matter how good Gerard could get his music, he would never get the appreciation that came with the popularity these guys had. As he watched the front man, James, ascend the step to the stage with wild brown hair that had been intentionally tussled backstage, he stiffened his resolve that the audience wouldn't be the only people having a bad time tonight.

Gerard tucked his obsidian hair underneath his hood as he flipped it up deftly, and he applied his full concentration to blending into the crowd as he slowly progressed toward the narrow and dimly lit corridor that led backstage. He edged his way through the crowd while being carefully to direct his eyes downward or anywhere away from James and his band assembling onstage; it was this maneuver that cause his chest to collide with a rigid, petite figure.

"You and crashing into people…" speculated the kid.

"You and being stiff in clubs," Gerard retorted as he looked down on dark brown hair cloaked in a black hoodie.

Frank's appearance was definitely not an unwelcome surprise, but this was a lot in one night. Life was always like that; there was nothing and then everything. It would be difficult to choose between revenge and enjoying the return of this new face. Did he have to?

Gerard wasn't yet sure how, but this was going to be a two-man job. "You see that hallway to the left of the stage?" he said while gesturing discreetly toward the place in question.

"The one with the bathroom?" Frank inquired.

"Yeah, that one. There is a black curtain at the end of the hall, and I need to get through it without being noticed. Any ideas?"

"Not really."

"There is someone hanging around there right now…" Then he had a stroke of inspiration. "Have you ever been into that bathroom?"

"Yeah, the last time I was here. Why?"

"The window… Can you fit through it?"

Frank had was lithe, but he thought for a minute before responding with, "Yeah, sure."

"Okay, just slip into the bathroom quietly. Then, I want you to lock the door, climb out the window, and wait for me outside, but I might be a while. Don't get caught doing the last parts, at least not until we're done."

"… Sounds like a plan, I guess."

"Thanks."

Gerard liked this kid. With his help, this plan might just work. The Void was an all-ages joint with no _technical_ liquor license, but if teens wanted to get drunk, they had their ways. The Void was more than willing to turn a blind eye if it meant better business, and if you looked hard enough, sometimes you could even find an employee selling some beers inside the club to cushion the profit from his ecstasy dealings. It was a fucking classy place.

This activity would serve Gerard well tonight because kids who were out of school having a good time tended to have limited self-control. All those repressed teens were about to splurge and consume copious amounts of alcohol as soon as they got the chance, and damn it if they weren't going to have to pee. It was a simple plan, really, and Gerard almost found himself laughing as the dizzy mob proliferated in the hallway in front of the bathroom, thereby confirming the fact that this dumb plan he had formed on a whim was working. It didn't take long before he could casually slip through the amoeba of full bladders and duck behind the felt curtain to the shadowy backstage lounge.

With his best attempt to be casual, Gerard perused the sizable backstage room. He wouldn't mind being back here with a legitimate purpose someday, but he tried not to be distracted. After a few attempts to subtly peer into guitar cases and into jacket pockets, he saw what he was looking for sitting plainly atop a table.

_Well, that's a little careless, _Gerard thought as he moved to snatch the keys to James' Dodge Ram van. He was almost in the clear when he heard a familiar female voice behind him.

To Gerard's dismay, it clearly enunciated, "Who the hell are you?"


	3. Chapter 3

Frank was getting anxious. After the first five minutes of waiting, he had moved away from the bathroom window just to be safe, but he was wondering whether something had gone wrong. Why wasn't Gerard here yet? He reminded himself that the older boy hadn't specified a how long he should be waiting, but it did little to ease his nerves as he waited for Gerard's return. He shrunk back into his hood, less because of the weather, which was actually quite warm, and more because despite the lack of onlookers he was feeling self-conscious.

There was plenty of time to think, so Frank did. He thought about the alacrity with which he met Gerard's commands; he was so eager to please this near stranger. It was probably natural to look up to and seek approval from and older teen, but Frank understood that feeling. This was not the same. His adrenaline had been racing long before he was sent to climb out the window. He had been trying to control his excitement the whole bus ride to The Void, even before Gerard's accidental collision with him had sent his heart pounding.

Frank had had a 'girlfriend' (well, whatever it was at that age) when he was twelve, and he never felt this kind of excitement about her. Or any other girl, for that matter, so unle-

_Oh… oh, no._

Frank was thrown into a flurry of thoughts, the likes of which he had pondered before but especially since he had met Gerard. First, he thought of the prettiest girl in his school, which he supposed was this one girl named Emily. She clearly had a really nice body, great curves, and a beautiful, delicate face. Then he tried to picture himself with her, properly _with _her. It was easy enough. He had to work with his imagination a little bit to really see it, but there it was.

Frank's next move was to picture himself with Gerard. Instantly, he envisioned himself on top of him, straddling the older boy's dark jeans. It was so simple, and he was so compelled to let his mind run free and progress the scene. It was much less forced than when Emily was in that same place. The scene with the handsome boy brought an untainted pleasure unlike imagining Emily; there was such a defined difference that it made Frank wonder.

_No. _Frank wasn't going to do this now. He needed to stay alert and finish Gerard's plan, whatever it was. Little did he know, he didn't have much longer to wait, for in the backstage lounge, Gerard was tucking the car keys into his waistband and turning to face the accusatory voice of Joanna, the girlfriend of one of James's crew - Gerard wasn't sure which one. He couldn't keep the gossip straight, and based on all the rumors that had buzzed around their high school, she may as well have been with all of them.

"You. Who are you?" Joanna prodded, and Gerard turned to face the girl with her hands running manically through her auburn hair.

The dumbstruck Gerard opened his mouth, hoping that he could think on his feet well enough to get out of this. Being recognized in The Void at all that night would be detrimental to his plan, but before he could utter more than the choked beginning of an excuse, Joanna cut him off.

"Oh, it's just backstage help," she commented to a friend, and then she simply walked away.

_She and her crowd tormented me for four years. It's been two weeks since we graduated together, and she doesn't even recognizeme when I'm stealing her boyfriend's car keys. _Gerard had never been more offended to not get caught. However, he wasn't so offended as to blow his cover, so he walked out the back exit with a placid demeanor to mask the thrill rising inside of him. He turned the corner down an alleyway, saw Frank, watched the boy's posture instantly relax, and gestured for the kid to follow him to the parking lot.

The black Dodge van was instantly recognizable. James drove it anywhere where he wanted to show off his band status, which was absolutely everywhere something was breathing. It, in turn, drove Gerard crazy. He stood for a moment by the driver's side, evaluating the vehicle as he waited for Frank to catch up to him.

"Frank," Gerard said decisively as he carefully unlocked the door, "wanna go for a ride?"

"S-sure," stammered Frank, answering before even thinking it through.

"Perfect."

The boys climbed into the front of the van, and Gerard pulled out onto the street.

Frank had to ask, "What did you do in there?"

"I got the keys to this car."

"This isn't your car?"

"This isn't my car."

"… I'm sorry, but I have to ask. _Whose _car is this?"

"This car, my dear friend, is the primary vehicle of the poor bastards who decided to fuck with me for a few too many years.

"Playing tonight," Gerard continued, "are some of my high school bullies. I guess bully is the right word. I've never had to explain this to anyone. Anyway, we are going to have some fun with this van."

"What are you planning to do?"

"You'll see… Aha!"

With that last comment, a supermarket materialized to the right of the car, and Gerard pulled into the parking lot.

"Okay, Frank," Frank's heart fluttered when Gerard used his name, "can you get me seven jugs of the discounted Miller's fruit juice and some tin foil?" Gerard handed Frank thirty dollars, and they passed through the automatic doors purposefully.

Seeing the massive size of the Miller's juice jugs, it occurred to Frank that he was going to need a cart. He went back outside to retrieve one, and when he came back into the store, he had lost sight of Gerard. Dutifully, he loaded the shopping cart with the seven jugs and got in line at the register right behind his commander who was in the process of purchasing a juice bottle of an entirely different brand.

"More juice for the plan?" Frank asked.

"No, this one is for me," clarified Gerard. Then, feeling he should elaborate, "Miller's is shit."

"Oh."

Once Frank had paid for the bizarre quantity of fruit beverages, Gerard posed a simple question.

"Are you ready?"

Frank nodded slightly, and on that signal, Gerard grabbed hold of the cart and sprinted out of the supermarket with a wild grin on his face. His companion followed close behind him, invigorated by the escalation of Gerard's energy. They loaded the juice into the back seat of the car, jumped inside, and drove away into the night. Gerard opened his personal juice bottle and began to sip it nonchalantly.

"You're pretty lucky Frank. You got into a van with a guy you hardly know without a second thought. If you ever try that again, just as a fair warning, not too many guys just want to buy some juice."

"You feel trustworthy. I mean, you're pretty young yourself."

Gerard suddenly grew somber. "Be careful with that trustworthy thing. I don't want to hear that you ended up getting hurt."

There was a brief silence that Frank soon burst with the looming question, "So what did these guys do to you?"

Gerard sighed. "All of high school they never left me alone. They spread rumors, occasionally beat me up a little. The usual stuff. They sort of helped me learn to hate myself, and I never want to go back to that."

"I get a lot of that too. My family isn't much help… I took a bus here. Just got up, walked out, and got on a bus, and they asked no questions. There isn't a place that really wants to have me, and I guess that's a lot of why I was willing to just get in the car with you are go wherever. When I get back to school, I'll probably just try to blend in long enough to survive the year."

"There was a moment in my life when I really wanted to kill myself," mused Gerard, "and there was one other moment when I was close to that. . . . But even in my most jaded times, I had some hope.

"Here is the thing," Gerard continued, "Life is very, very short, and you can choose to live it how you want. You can choose to dumb yourself down and not express yourself just so you can fit in, just so people won't dislike you. Or you can fucking live." He pulled back into The Void parking lot, and the wild grin flicked back onto his face. "Are you ready to get these assholes?"

Gerard grabbed the tinfoil, climbed into the back of the van, and proceeded to use it seal off leaks out of the back area where the band would be loading their equipment later. Then, he climbed onto the last row of seats, grabbed the first jug of juice, leaned over the seat backs, and began to pour its entirety onto the van floor.

Frank watched with a smile on his face. "You are brilliant!" he exclaimed and then held up the keys. "Mind if I do some work on the outside?"

"Go for it."

Gerard finished emptying seven jugs of juice into the back of the van, finishing with a solid inch of liquid swimming in the car; the containers were unceremoniously dumped into the driver's seat. He climbed out of the passenger seat door to see Frank's handiwork carved into the side of the car.

_Revenge is a Bitch_

"Hey, can I see the keys?" asked Gerard. Frank tossed them to him, and the older boy's tongue stuck out of his mouth just slightly as he added to the message a modest smiley face.

The two sat contentedly on the roof of a neighboring building for the rest of the night. They watched the juice pour out of the van like a magical colored waterfall, and they crouched down to hide from furious and bewildered eyes. This was a fantastic night, and so were all the other nights they spent together that summer in 1995.


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm not psycho… I just like psychotic things," Gerard justified.

"Likely story," replied Frank with an irrepressible smile, "coming from the guy who just described – in excruciating detail – a movie where someone gets their toes cut off with a wire."

"Yeah, your case isn't looking too good," Gerard's 15-year-old little brother added.

"Shut up, Mikey," giggled Gerard as he chucked a throw pillow at his sibling.

Frank was at Gerard's apartment for the first time, and he was feeling surprisingly comfortable. He got the impression that he would feel at home anywhere Gerard was. It was the end of the summer, probably the last time they would get to see each other before Frank went back to high school and Gerard, who was most definitely going to attend art school, would leave for New York with promises to visit often. The night would inevitably be a sad one, but both of the boys were willing to push those melancholy feelings aside for as long as possible.

Presently, everyone was sitting the Way's living room. Way, it turns out, was Gerard's last name, and that was only one of a profuse amount of things the boys had learned about each other over the summer. Frank, though young, was more than bright enough to keep up with Gerard as a perfect companion. Gerard felt like he had acquired a second little brother and not crap kind, the kind that was a best friend. He loved Mikey to death, and now he felt similarly about Frank.

"Alright," announced Gerard, "you don't have to complain about anything incredibly psychotic because we, very unfortunately I might add, have no Japanese slashers in the house. Instead, we shall watch _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre._"

"Right, because Leather Face is just a regular Mr. Rogers," quipped Frank as Gerard set up the VCR.

Mikey sprawled out in his enormous, cushioned chair that engulfed his scrawny body. Frank had seen him at school, and though Mikey gaveFrank a few strange looks when Gerard made introductions, he thankfully made no comments about it. It was Frank's preference that Gerard didn't know his age if it wasn't necessary. People tend to back away when they find out how much younger than themselves the person they are with is, so Frank had no intentions of letting that number slip.

Meanwhile, Gerard plopped himself onto the opposite end of the couch as Frank. The gang watched in silence to appreciate creepy atmosphere and gore for all of five minutes before they began to make humorous remarks. There was too much social chemistry between the three for them not to construct the silly running commentary that they did.

"And what is the moral of this story?" added Gerard as he stretched out horizontally so that his back was against Frank.

"Middle-America is terrifying?" Frank suggested.

"No, no, no. Clearly, the lesson to be had here is that the heavier you are, the faster you will run, and if that is so, there was a time when I could have been a damn track star."

"Aw," Mikey sarcastically sympathized, "you missed your calling."

As the warm back settled onto his side, Frank became acutely aware of every flex of Gerard's muscles, every twitch of his shoulder blades. It wasn't just his age that Frank was hiding from Gerard. Moments like this had been coming up all summer, and Frank was past the point of wondering what they meant. He was without a doubt crazy about Gerard; nonetheless, he could never tell him. As if the age difference wouldn't be uncomfortable enough, the odds were slim that Gerard would want to hear about a _male _friend having a crush on him. It wasn't even advisable to tell your friend of the same age and opposite sex that you were into them, so letting anything be known to Gerard was out of the question.

When Gerard was close to Frank like this, though, the more-than-friendly feelings were difficult to ignore. Frank was aware that he had begun to talk less because all his concentration was going toward ensuring that he did not in any way betray his hormone-driven thoughts. He found it fairly pathetic, really. Anytime he and Gerard made extended contact, Frank would dwell on for days what it felt like to touch him, and having one of these moments now was only going to make it more difficult for Frank later when he had to reveal the even bigger information he had been sitting on all day.

"Gah! Jesus!" shouted Frank following Gerard's warm hands closing around his neck. He then burst into laughter.

"Welcome back, Frankie," joked Gerard through equal amusement.

There wasn't much left to the movie after that, and the boys kept up their antics through to the end. Frank allowed himself to get lost in the fun, but he found himself lost with a pensive expression shortly after the credits rolled. He had to crush the lighthearted atmosphere; determining the exact way in which he would do it was consuming his mental power to the point at which he barely noticed the younger Way brother leave the room.

Gerard crouched down once again to eject the tape from the VCR. Frank was thankful for this distraction because it kept Gerard from seeing him make two false starts at his first sentence, opening his mouth and slamming it shut. As if it weren't hard enough making his statement, Frank found a distraction of his own in the subtle motion of Gerard's back through his shirt.

"You know how we were going to meet up even after you went away to school?" Frank began.

"Yeah?" Gerard replied.

"I don't think it can happen."

Gerard turned around, concern plastered throughout his countenance, and sat down in the oversized chair Mikey had just vacated.

Frank continued, stumbling over his explanation, "Well, uh, my cousins and aunts and stuff have been getting out of our house since summer is ending, so my parents have been paying a little more attention. They've noticed that I'm out all the time, and they saw you dropping me off…"

"Ah, they're worried about you spending time in some unknown place with older strangers. Makes sense, I guess."

"Yeah."

"So we can't meet up…"

"They want to keep a better eye on me, and they have no intentions of letting me hang out with you, especially… God, why do they have to start caring now? They don't even know what they're worried about."

Gerard's concerned face fell into genuine sadness. He simply whispered, "Shit."

"I don't want to go back to fucking high school. Not if I can't even have you as one friend."

Gerard sighed. "Don't worry. I survived. You will too. Just… be yourself. Don't take anything from anything from anyone. And never let them take you alive."

"I like that," Frank said with half a smile flashing across his doleful face.

"Yeah, I'll have to remember it."

Frank frowned. "I should be getting home."

"Do you need a ride?"

"It's not a good idea."

Gerard pulled him into a hug and murmured, "You're going to be alright."

In the moment that the door to Gerard's home closed, obscuring his 18-year-old face for the last time, Frank wasn't entirely convinced of those last words.


	5. Chapter 5

Frank walked under bright sunlight not to reach his destination but to delay finding himself home. Well, it wasn't exactly home. It was an apartment owned by a friend of his family on the outskirts of New York City, and being a new arrival, Frank didn't feel comfortable spending too much time there. It was another person's home, so any time Frank occupied it, he maintained a fear that he would do something wrong.

The boy was 20 now, and he was glad to finally be somewhere away from home. He had meant to come to New York the year before, but with the attacks, it was clear that 2001 was not the year to arrive. He supposed that he could have just settled for going to college. Hell, he could have gone on scholarship, but he wanted to properly celebrate getting out of high school before sending his new freedom to an early grave. A new city seemed like the perfect break from his old life, proof that he really was free to leave and do what he wanted.

However, on that particular day, he didn't know what he wanted other than to avoid the apartment, so he wandered. Checking out shops kept him occupied, but a lot were touristy. The number of people who apparently wanted Empire State Building statuettes was truly astounding. In any store that wasn't geared toward tourists, though, Frank felt out of place. Actually, he was aching for something familiar to make him feel like he belonged; his guitar would be nice. He knew it was trapped in the apartment, but it would be so nice, he thought, if he had something to do with his hands.

Frank turned the corner onto yet another unfamiliar street, taking in the buildings that lined it. There was a small café, another generic tourist shop, and – well, this was worth seeing. A black, boxy building stood out against the rest. There was no sign above the door to indicate the name of the establishment, but the marquee in its place gave the building's purpose away.

'Playing Tonight: Silvertongue.'

Curiosity pulled Frank across the street to get a closer look. He had maintained an affinity for the underground band scene throughout his teenage years, even trying to form some bands himself; the people, the clubs, and the feelings when he found some really incredible music were invigorating. He absentmindedly nudged the front doors of the black building. They were locked, as expected, for it was still early afternoon.

Frank moved away down the sidewalk with the intention to come back later. However, in the narrow alleyway between the black-painted club and the next building over, Frank caught sight of an open door. He hesitated only a moment before deciding to peer inside from that one doorway. It wasn't as if he expected to get anything out of just looking at the closed venue, but he also wasn't going to get much from looking at a shop less-than-cleverly called "I Love New York" either.

For a few years now, Frank had been stuck at a height of five feet and six inches, but it had its perks, especially then when he easily walked down the alley unnoticed. Upon approaching the door and catching his first glimpse at the building's interior, he heard voices. It nearly made him turn around and go back. Nearly.

"Look, we're booked for months, and honestly I'm not sure I can take a risk on someone as new as you right now," asserted the first voice, one of a woman.

"C'mon, I'm here all the time. You know me, and you know I wouldn't give you a terrible act to work with. We've got solid drums, a kickass guitarist – we're even recording in a couple weeks," This second voice was male, and it was the one that made Frank stay, though he wasn't sure why.

The second voice was high for a man and a little nasal, but it was compelling, suddenly making Frank feel more like he was supposed to be there in that doorway than anywhere else in the city. It didn't make sense to Frank why such a voice couldn't convince this one woman to give him a gig. Listening to the argument, Frank barely noticed that he had stepped inside the doorway. He was far removed from the two voices, but he could now make out the bodies to which they belonged.

"I see you take chances on young bands every night," the male voice persisted.

"But we have an unprecedented number of people who want to play this month, and this would be your _first _gig, Gerard." The woman continued, but Frank was deaf to the rest of her reasoning.

Gerard. Was it the same Gerard? It would explain why the voice felt so familiar, soothing even. It was a stretch, Frank guessed. Didn't_ that_ Gerard go off to art school? Nonetheless, Frank's memories of a summer years ago moved him farther into the building, determined to confirm or negate the discovery. From what Frank could tell, the man was clad in leather jacket, but that didn't prove anything.

The authoritative woman turned to pick something up, and the man named Gerard followed her, desperate to win his battle. In that change of direction, though, his face was revealed. It was more defined than anything Frank remembered, but he supposed that came with age. The Gerard from all those years ago would be what? Twenty-five? The bone structure may have been more pronounced, but it was framed by stark black hair, long for a guy. A delicate nose marked the profile of his pale face, and his eyes could just barely be made out as greenish…

"Holy shit," Frank breathed.


	6. Chapter 6

"Holy shit."

Those two words couldn't be halted when they fell from Frank's mouth. The shock was too much. This was _his _Gerard, the boy he had been so infatuated with years ago, the one who came into his mind every time it got that little bit harder to be around the kids he went to school with, the one he had almost forgotten about with all the sudden changes of entering adulthood. However, those words, even with such a miniscule volume quickly condemned him.

"Excuse me, who are you?" inquired the woman previously watching Gerard but whose eyes now were locked on a dumbstruck Frank.

Drowned in adrenaline, Frank only managed to stutter a few syllables to explain his presence. Luckily, the other set of eyes now on him was prepared to show mercy. Gerard saw Frank standing unarmed, and he was overwhelmed by a need to protect him. The word to describe Gerard's sexual history was definitely female, but as crazy as it may have been, he couldn't help but feel that part of his urge to help man in front of him was because the man was, well, handsome. Enormous hazel eyes equipped to draw in an entire room lay beneath dark, perfectly arched eyebrows. Gerard wasn't too perplexed. He had been attracted to men before; he just had never followed through on the instinct. The kind of face that was now in front of him, though, looking like a deer in headlights, had a special kind of beauty. In fact, he could only remember seeing one like it a few times at most. That was what compelled him to speak.

"He's with me," Gerard lied.

"Oh, I didn't know – obviously," explained the woman.

"Yeah, I told him to meet me here. We're getting lunch after you and I are done."

Frank was a little baffled as to what was happening, but he knew when he was being saved. He pulled himself together enough to make an introduction.

"I'm Frank," he said, moving forward to greet the woman and missing the flash of recognition in Gerard's eyes.

"Jill," she said. "Always nice to see a new face."

"So why not let my new band play?" interjected Gerard.

Jill sighed.

"I'll think about it," she offered, "but I think we're done here for today if you and Frank want to get going."

"Great, I look forward to our next meeting," Gerard added while walking the befuddled Frank out the door.

Once outside, Gerard kept walking at a brisk pace, keeping Frank at his side with a hand at the back of his shoulder.

"Where are we going?" Frank mused after a minute, though not at all displeased that they weren't dispersing.

"Lunch," Gerard answered. "I did say that, right?"

The two arrived at a small sandwich shop. Few words were exchanged as each bought themselves some food and took a seat, but Gerard moved to break the silence.

"So," Gerard began after finishing a bite of his sandwich, "why _were _you creeping into the black box with no name?"

"It doesn't have a name?" asked Frank.

"Nope. Thanks to years of lazy ownership that neglects to put up sign and acts like it's an artistic statement, that poor club has no name."

"Wow…" Frank said before he remembered Gerard's question. "I was just interested, I guess. I've messed around with the underground band scene, and places like that just do something for me."

"You sure have a knack for sneaking around clubs," Gerard commented. Frank gave him an inquisitive look before Gerard continued with, "Bands, huh? Are you in one?"

"I messed around with it in high school, but it was always hard to find willing participants."

"I had the same problem."

"You do have a band, though. How's that going for you?"

"Pretty well. I came out here for art school, but then last year with the Trade Center… It was so wild, terrifying that something like that could happen. It made me want to change paths completely."

There was silence for a few minutes before Frank hesitantly added, "I may be completely wrong,, but I think I know you."

Gerard made eye contact with a playful smirk. "Yes you do, Mr. Iero."

Upon hearing Gerard say his last name, Frank felt his jaw drop a little before his mouth was pulled into a grin.

"It's been a while," Gerard noted, still smiling.

"I know."

"You have a lot to tell me. How did you end up in New York?"

"I graduated high school. I needed to see a new place."

"How old are you, anyway? I don't remember."

"Twenty."

"So when we first met you were-"

"Thirteen."

It was Gerard's turn to be taken aback. He only uttered, "Christ… that's so young."

"Which is why I never told you," Frank said with a grin.

"Of course I knew you wereyoung. You never seemed like it when I talked to you, though. I went to high school with a lot of people who looked super young as freshman, so I figured you were just a really small guy."

"I _am _a really small guy," Frank laughed.

Gerard gazed down into his drink before being struck with an idea. "Frank, do you still play guitar?"

"Yeah, all the time."

"My band, we're recording in a little over a week, and we only have one guitarist. We could use a second one for a few tracks. Would you mind helping out with that?"

"That would be great," agreed Frank, not even coming close expressing his joy at the offer.

"Perfect! Here," Gerard said, searching in his jacket until he found a pen, "this is my number and the studio address." He handed Frank a napkin with the information scrawled across it and reached into his jacket once more. "Oh, and here's a demo. Get familiar with tracks two and five."

The rest of the lunch went smoothly, filled with stories, happy and sad, of each man's life during the seven years apart. Frank walked back to his shared apartment with a smile on his face, and as soon as he walked in the door, he flung open his guitar case to preserve inside it the napkin Gerard had given him. It would be safe there. Now the black, sticker-marked case held both of the best things Frank had with him in New York.


	7. Chapter 7

Frank rolled out of bed before the sun was high in the sky, which was new for him. He couldn't have possibly slept longer, though. He was too excited, too anxious for the day he was about to have. The entire demo Gerard had given him, not just the two tracks he needed to know, was ingrained in his mind. It was good music, and today he would be recording some of it.

Gerard and Frank had been in touch over the phone through somewhat awkward conversations that nonetheless left both of them grinning, and everything was settled. Frank would be serving as the rhythm guitarist for them today. He grabbed his guitar and a handful of money and started walking. He knew he'd have to catch a cab or something soon because he was going all the way to New Windsor which was over an hour north, but he didn't think he could sit still just yet. In his mind he reviewed the music for the thousandth time; it occurred to him that he still hadn't met the rest of the band. Great, that was one more thing to make him worry.

After a while, Frank realized he'd have to catch a cab soon or else he'd have walked out of the city past most of his chances for a ride. He listened to his gut, and his gut had ridiculously expensive ideas because the cab fare skyrocketed. He got out of the cab as soon as he was in New Windsor to walk the rest of the way. At least he could save money while calming his nerves; God, he was nervous. Besides, New Windsor was nice. You could actually see a decent amount of green.

Trees turned into houses which turned into businesses. Then, almost too soon, there it was. Nada Recording Studio. Frank double-checked the address even though this was clearly the right place. When Frank knocked on the door, he heard muffled shouting. He waited for a minute before the door was opened by a bony man wearing glasses. Gerard came up behind the man, bearing a welcoming smile.

"Frank, great!" He greeted. "Come in."

"Hey," said the man who opened the door. Seeing Frank's lack of recognition, he kindly offered his name. "I'm Mikey."

Frank felt instantly stupid for not realizing that. Gerard had told him that Mikey was their bassist, and the younger Way brother didn't look so terribly different from the scrawny, fourteen-year-old self he had been the last time Frank had seen him.

"Shit – Hi," Frank managed, realizing his blunder, "Mikey, of course."

Another, larger man emerged from farther into the building. The new face introduced himself briefly with the word, "Matt."

"He plays the drums," Gerard explained. "I sing, but I've never been able to do that while playing an instrument. That's why Ray is our lead guitarist, but he's not here yet." He stepped back and gestured with open arms. "With that exception, we are My Chemical Romance. Welcome to the recording of our first album. Feel free to set up."

Frank took in the room. It took his breath away to see that he was in a proper studio; it was surreal. After the brief introductions, Gerard had begun running around manically to put everything in its place. What that 'everything' was, Frank wasn't certain, but he couldn't help but smile at Gerard's perfectionist behavior. To shake the grin off his face was the fact the he had essentially been left alone in a room full of strangers. Matt made him somewhat uncomfortable, so he was relieved when Mikey came over to work with his bass.

"How've you been, Frank?" Mikey posed the casual courtesy while tuning his instrument.

Frank reciprocated with, "Not bad. How about you?"

"I've been doing alright."

"When did you learn to play bass?" asked Frank in an attempt to fill the air.

"Uh, I picked up the bass a little over a year ago, actually. I learned it to be in a totally different band, but Gerard comes first. When he started going for this idea, I sort of threw myself into making this band happen. I helped come up with the name, actually."

"Really? It's pretty unusual."

"It's an Irvine Welsh novel," he explained with a shy smile. "I was working at Barnes and Noble for a while. Then I was interning with a record label, and, well…" Mikey shrugged rather than finish the sentence.

"Cool."

Frank liked Mikey. He seemed like a really nice guy. He was sort of quiet, but that just made him less threatening. Mikey was a benevolent presence in the room, so Frank decided he would try to make a friend out of him.

Frank asked the ordinary yet valuable question, "What kinds of music are you into?"

"Hm… Iron Maiden, Anthrax, Misfits…" Mikey's voice trailed off as he moved in closer to hear his D string.

"Misfits? Nice."

The two boys maintained the casual conversation, and Frank felt pretty confident that they could be good friends. Neither were social butterflies, but together, conversation was easy. They found they had some strong topics to discuss, and neither put pressure on the other when they did reach a pause in conversation. The only interruption came when a head of wild, curly hair towering about six feet in the air burst into the room.

"Ray!" Gerard exclaimed with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"Am I the last one here?" the new man, apparently Ray, wondered aloud.

"Yep, and this," Gerard said, gesturing grandly toward Frank and startling him slightly, "is Frank. Exchange guitar wisdom."

Ray turned out to be a really relaxed guy and a brilliant guitarist. He possessed a huge influence on writing the music for the album, and he helped Frank put together rhythm guitar parts. Everyone in the band was pretty fantastic, and throughout the following days that they were together, Frank began to feel as accepted around them as he had ever felt with anyone else. In that first week Frank knew them, they spent time together working in the studio on and off, going out to eat, and even helping Frank job hunt, a grueling endeavor that led them from café to café. By the last day they spent recording the album, they were all talking like old friends.

Gerard, though, still held most of Frank's interest, the way he had seven years ago. Well, not exactly the same way. Frank no longer had a teenage crush on the older boy, now a man; however, Gerard sometimes caught Frank letting his eyes linger a little too long when he thought Gerard was looking the other way.

Gerard himself was experiencing a similar problem. He had known since they met that Frank possessed handsome features, but it was different now that they had matured. The boy grown was a sight to see. Still petite, he had a slim frame and well-defined face upon which there could sometimes be seen a coy smirk. On several occasions when that particular expression danced across Frank's face, Gerard caught himself not breathing. He dismissed those feelings, though. He had established in the past that he dated girls, so why would he take a chance on something like this that would probably lead to rejection anyway? The last thing he wanted was to scare Frank away; he knew as the band finished their last recording session that he would work to keep Frank in his life

"Frank," Mikey called from the corner where he was packing up his bass on the last day, "where are you going after this?"

"Back my parents' friend's apartment, I guess, but I'll put that one off for a while," Frank explained.

"You never seem to want to go back there."

"I feel like I'm an imposition. It's just me and some adult I hardly know whose doing me a favor."

"Have you considered moving out? You're going to have a job soon, so you'd be able to afford someplace cheap."

"I guess. I'd have to start looking for a place, though."

"You could move in with Mikey," Gerard shouted across the room, interjecting himself into the conversation without physically moving himself toward the people having it. Frank froze for a moment, considering the offer, and then looked to Mikey.

"I was just thinking," Mikey spilled out, jostled by his brother's interruption, "that I'm looking for a roommate, and you don't like your place. And I'd rather live with you than some stranger. My apartment has pretty reasonable rent. Once you start working, we could split it."

Frank mulled the idea over for a moment before saying, "Yeah, that would be great."

"You'll talk about it then!" Gerard announced on their behalves. "But for now, we should go out and celebrate the completion of our first album."

The gang gave some disjointed shouts of victory and headed out the door, with the exception of Frank. He stayed behind, sorted his few belongings, and let the band go off to their celebration. Gerard, though, leaned against the doorway, maintaining a posture as if he were waiting for something. After a moment of stalling there, Gerard realized he needed to explain himself."

"You too, Frank," he said. "You, poor bastard, are one of us now."


	8. Chapter 8

Frank moved in with Mikey five days later. It wasn't all that difficult, really. He made a call to his parents explaining that he would be living with a friend he knew from school, thanked the man who had been housing him, and moved his single suitcase away from the city to Mikey's apartment in Queens. Mikey hadn't promised him anything fancy, but the neighborhood made a lot of markets and restaurants readily accessible

Among these business, Frank had finally found a job. The money his parents had given him could only go so far, but the move to Mikey's place had given him the opportunity for financial help from a different family member. His uncle owned an Italian restaurant in Queens; Frank readily accepted a position as a busboy. He was grateful for the money, especially if he was going to keep living with Mikey, and after a couple weeks, Frank realized that he had no intentions of leaving.

The apartment was small but reasonable. When you opened the door, you were immediately confronted with a living room that consisted of a brown couch poised before a little square television, all atop a carpet that was either beige or filthy. To the left of the door was an abrupt change in flooring to the white linoleum that marked off the kitchen. The kitchen itself was a refrigerator followed by a stove crammed in between cabinets; it was boxed in by a jutting counter along its length that took up precious space more than serving any other purpose. There was presently no functioning phone, but Mikey had assured him that the payphone outside the building was and effective stand-in and family could be told to use the mail. Standing in the doorway, you could see farther along the left wall an opening that led to a small hallway that contained three doors. Left to right, it offered you Mikey's room, a bathroom, and Frank's bedroom.

A routine soon developed starting in that last room in which Frank would fight the battle each morning against his warm blankets and get his self to work. He'd stay at work for most of the day with breaks between the dining rushes, and then he would come home and relax with his guitar. Sometimes Mikey would be there for some companionship, but he was an unpredictable roommate in more ways than one. The first way was that his schedule changed rapidly. Mikey was still interning for the record label as well as serving coffee on a night shift; his hours were never consistent. One day he would greet Frank at the door after work, and the next evening he would be gone from the apartment until two hours past the time Frank had returned. The other manner of unpredictability was that Mikey's mind sometimes wandered so far away from him that he barely survived everyday tasks. He would be talking, and then Frank would have to intervene when he made blunders like absentmindedly sticking his hand down the garbage disposal or nearly placing a fork in the toaster. When Mikey did things like that, Frank felt more comfortable bearing the role of the new guy who might make a stupid mistake.

Thursdays were Frank's one day off, the result of another favor to a family member wherein his uncle allowed Frank's cousin Mary to fill Frank's position the one day she wasn't in school. Thursday was an odd day to have off, but a free day was a free day. The first of these Thurdays in the new apartment had proven to be very mellow, but the next time Frank's day off came around, it wasn't the same experience. He woke peacefully at 10:00 A.M., for his work hours had managed the impossible task of drawing his sleeping hours into the realm of human decency. However, waking in the honest morning did not make him any less lethargic. It was 2:00 P.M. before he actually put clothes on, and that was only to return to the couch with his guitar. He strummed a few chords to a song he didn't fully remember before he saw the doorknob twist and heard the click of the lock. _Mikey must be home_, he figured, but it was the other Way brother who stuck his jet-black head through the door.

"Hey, Frank," Gerard greeted.

Frank was startled for a moment, but he soon realized that it made sense that Gerard would have a key. He and Mikey were brothers, after all, and very close ones from what Frank could tell. It was inevitable that Gerard would show up in the apartment sooner or later.

"Hey," Frank croaked out, glad he had gotten dressed.

"Is Mikey here?"

"Nah, I haven't seen him all day."

"What? I come to spend time with my dear brother, and he's not even in?"

"You could have called."

"You almost have a point, Frank," Gerard muttered as he rustled through cabinets, "but I refuse to acknowledge it." His search continued for a minute before he turned back to Frank.

Gerard politely inquired, "How are you liking New York?"

"It's nice. I haven't seen too much, though, other than that first day we met in the city," confessed Frank.

"That is insane!" Frank couldn't tell whether or not there was genuine outrage in Gerard's joking outburst, but Gerard was serious enough to make his next suggestion. "Are you doing anything today?"

"Not a thing."

"Alright, we're going into Manhattan, just to walk around. You can keep me company."

Going all the way to Manhattan just to walk around turned out to be a highly unreasonable undertaking. A series of buses and subways extended over an hour before Frank made it to the city with Gerard, so there was a lot of space to fill with conversation. As Frank spoke, Gerard would count the number of times Frank used his hands superfluously to illustrate a point. They were nice hands, strong and dexterous, but the way Frank waved them in front of his chest when he was having trouble getting the right words out was sort of comical. Gerard made a fair amount of hand gestures while talking too, but they were all very deliberate. Frank's haphazard gesticulation was an entirely different behavior; it made Gerard smile.

The two finally made it into Manhattan, and, as promised, they walked. Neither of them ran into anyone they knew; though, for a moment Gerard could have sworn he saw Ray and Jill from the club across the street. If it really was them and Ray was working on getting them a gig, that was fine by him, but it wasn't where he wanted to direct his focus. He had come all the way out to Manhattan to talk to Frank alone. They discussed anything they felt like, from family, to school, to music as they moved aimlessly along the elongated city blocks. The conversations were simple.

"Can you scream?" Frank asked. "Like, singing-wise."

Gerard shook his head. "I wish," he replied, "but apparently you can."

"Yeah, but I can't always do it for you. You should learn."

"Okay, teach me. How does one scream?"

Frank pondered it for a moment. It was difficult to explain something like that. Gerard expected plenty of accompanying hand motions.

"It's something you have to work on to get," began Frank, "but… Okay, try singing a specific pitch but do it with more air and just try to make it a scream. Just that. Choose a word and a note. Let's go with," his face screwed up in thought, "Walmart."

"Walmart?" Gerard asked, stifling a laugh with a smile that permeated his voice.

"Walmart. I'm the teacher and I'll choose whatever word I want."

Frank took a moment and then released a scream, making a few pedestrians jump.

"There," he said. "Walmart works. Try it."

Gerard tried with minimal success, and the two friends burst into laughter.

"You'll learn," Frank assured him.

Those little exchanges were satisfactory. It soon got dark, so Gerard suggested beginning the trip home. He still wanted to catch Mikey if he could. However, they returned to an empty apartment.

"Dammit," Gerard announced upon seeing the unlit living space. "Frank", he continued while turning on the lights, "Does Mikey keep any food in this apartment? I was looking through your cabinets earlier, but I couldn't find anything."

"I think he has two six packs of beer in the fridge," offered Frank.

Gerard soon took out both. "We are finishing them both as punishment for him not being here." He broke open a bottle. "I bet I can drink you under the table."

Frank accepted the challenge. A few beers later when he was starting to show the effects of the alcohol and Gerard remained unchanged, he regretted it.

"You can't take a drink, Frank," Gerard commented.

"I'm not down yet," declared Frank.

It was a while and several more determined drinks on Frank's part before Gerard began talking again. "It's such a strange feeling to do something and nothing at the same time. Like in Manhattan today, we went all the way to Manhattan, but nothing happened. We just talked, and it was still worth it."

Frank nodded with a vague smile plastered on his face.

"So, Frank, we didn't see each other for seven years. I still don't really know what happened to you in that time."

"Not much, I guess," Frank slurred, his words just starting to run together like melting ice. "I tried starting a band. We didn't go anywhere. School was god-awful. Not because of the classes but because I barely had any friends. However, I did see this one girl for a while... That didn't go anywhere either." He developed a wry smile. "She was pretty, though." Frank shrugged and tried to form another sentence, but it was clear that he was a tad too drunk to do so. Gerard mercifully spoke for him.

"I warned you. High school is terrible. I think I told you, though, before I left that you can't take anything from anyone if you want to survive."

Frank was quiet for a while, staring with glazed eyes at the wall directly in front of him and fidgeting with the cap to his most recently emptied bottle. Then he spoke.

"I remember. I had the biggest crush on you."

Gerard's eyes flashed and adrenaline shot through every inch of his body. He had no idea what to make of that sentence. Surely Frank didn't mean to say that. There wasn't time to examine the comment further, though, because Frank suddenly tried to stand.

"I'm gonna get some water," Frank slurred. He nearly collapsed while trying to walk in his inebriated state.

Luckily, Gerard lunged forward in time to wrap his arms around Frank's waist, catching him before he hit the floor. Frank slumped against Gerard's chest and rapidly beating heart while the supporting party tried to guide Frank to his room. Slowly, Gerard got Frank to his bed, laid him down gently, and rolled him onto his side. As he hovered over the mattress, Gerard's mind was plagued with thoughts about Frank's comment. He was too buzzed to sort through them in that moment, though, and the only person who could explain anything was beyond the ability to speak.

Gerard backed up into a wall and let himself slump down onto the floor by Frank's bed believing more than ever in his previous summary of the day. _I had the biggest crush on you. _Those words were something, but nothing had happened because Frank wouldn't even remember them. Unlike the trip to Manhattan, though, Gerard had to wonder whether the words were worth it. In the heavy darkness, Gerard lingered, unwilling to leave the scene of the confession that could mean so much and which he feared he'd never hear again.


	9. Chapter 9

"Tuesday," Jill announced. "One of my other acts canceled, so you're on at seven thirty. You can show up before that - the day before if you want - but don't be late."

It was Sunday, three days after Gerard and Frank had taken their trip to Manhattan, and the collective members of My Chemical Romance found themselves back at the club with no name. Jill had finally broken down and given them a gig which was probably a result of Gerard's insistent and charismatic pleading. It was apparent that she was highly susceptible to Gerard's charm, and for that fact, the band was very grateful

Frank had to manage some of his own charm to get his uncle to give him Tuesday night off. Uncle Henry was supportive of Frank's efforts to pursue music but only as long as he deemed his nephew entirely dedicated. If Frank showed one sign that this gig was not part of a tireless effort to establish a career for himself, Uncle Henry would declare that if he felt that indifferent, he may as well spend the night working the job he already had. This was a reasoning that Frank's cousin Mary assured him was applied to her just a rigidly when she had begun missing work to attend college. Mary was a very opinionated girl, so Frank had heard her speak extensively on every topic, talking to Uncle Henry included. Though he didn't agree with her on many things, her advice on how he could make his case was invaluable; Uncle Henry consented to letting Frank out of work early on Tuesday.

Having gained permission to perform, there was only one thing left for Frank to do.

Worry.

Anxiety pricked at him every so often throughout Sunday and Monday. By Monday night, he was a ball of panic and stress, but that only made him more eager than ever to just get on the stage.

Gerard also lay awake Monday night, but for different reasons. He and Frank hadn't spent time alone together since Thursday, not that Gerard knew what he would do in that situation anyway. Frank clearly didn't remember saying anything out of the ordinary; all he had said about the night was a casual comment on Gerard's ridiculously high alcohol tolerance when Mikey found his fridge empty. Regardless of whether Frank remembered saying anything, though, didn't it still mean something that he had said it at all? However drunk he was, he had looked so sincere when he declared his former crush. Gerard rolled over in bed and tried to push the thoughts aside until the gig was over. He could figure everything out later.

The night of the show, the band met outside the club at six. They carried their gear in by way of the back entrance in the alley and began setup. The club's interior was small and dark; the stage was tiny. Four feet off the ground, the band would just fit, and they were well in range of the audience's hands. A loft with a bar hovered above the standing room and gave space for another fifty people. Coming off the stage was an unlit corridor leading to a cubicle of a dressing room that went unused by most of the band, as they were fine with wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and minimal effort. Gerard, however, did take advantage of the facility. He was wearing his usual black leather jacket paired with some equally black jeans. The dressing room was declared his, and no one argued it.

Frank passed the remaining minutes to show time flexing his fingers and trying not to panic. For a while he stared at the wall with the unfinished black paint that faced him, but its blankness was little comfort. Flicking his eyes to the side, he saw Ray sitting against the wall with Jenny farther down the corridor. The positions of their bodies suggested that they were slumped, but Frank could tell that Ray was rigid. It looked like Frank wasn't the only one experiencing some nerves; at least Ray seemed to be enjoying some company. Gerard spent some time behind the dressing room door, and though Frank wasn't sure what else he could possibly do to his appearance, he could admit that Gerard somehow came out looking even better. Out of the dressing room strutted a man with perfect confidence, determination, and tousled black hair. This was a man who was ready to perform.

Nerves were reaching a boiling point as the band moved onto the stage, and relief washed over everyone when they began their first song. Soon they all were moving and were at home with their instruments as if they were just playing for the hell of it. When Frank wasn't head banging, his eyes were on Gerard. As a front man, he noticed, Gerard was sort of brilliant. He started out stiff like everyone else, but by the second song, he was moving freely with a dramatic flair and working the crowd like a pro. Even for the rest of the band on stage with him, it was intensely entertaining.

"Welcome," Gerard announced to the crowd, "to this lovely establishment. I hope you're enjoying yourselves because we're going to be playing a few more songs, and you should feel them with everything in your little black hearts. Let's go!" A shout came from the shadowy corners of the club. The pure electricity that ricocheted through the blackened room carried them through to the end of the show in unbelievable speed.

They walked off the stage feeling as if their feet never touched the ground. It really had gone quickly, in the blink of an eye, but it had happened. That thought was just registering in Gerard's mind when Frank joined him in the dressing room.

"Holy shit!" Frank exclaimed.

"Holy shit," Gerard reciprocated.

"This has got to be the best feeling ever. I want to run down the street or something, scream off a rooftop that I'm living, you know?"

"It feels like you've done something right."

Frank's face dropped suddenly. "Imagine being able to show this night to everyone who ever put you down, anyone who ever made you feel like you were nothing. Because even if you wake up tomorrow and you're nothing again, this was something. This feeling."

"I've told you before," Gerard assured him, taking on the serious tone and finding more strength with each word, "that no matter what anyone says, don't take their fucking bullshit. 'Cause your better than them, faster than them, and God damn it, you're much better looking!"

Gerard was practically shouting by the last phrase, but the speech was only enough to make Frank crack a weak smile that was honestly more of a grimace. All euphoria from the performance was waning, and Gerard was willing to do anything to make Frank believe the words he had just been told and turn back into the invincible person who had entered the room. Emotions were running high in a million directions, and he made snap decision. Gerard leaned forward, closing the space between them, and pressed his lips against Frank's. The contact lasted only two seconds, but a lifetime of feeling ran through Gerard. Warmth from Frank's lips shot through his veins and led back to his heart which was beating furiously. Panic, excitement, and release seized Gerard and threw him into a state of extreme alertness that felt sorely the loss of heat when his lips part from Frank's.

There was a pause. Due to the music coursing through the club around them, there was no lack of noise, but for Gerard, the room was dead silent. He cast his eyes downward, cursing himself for making such brash move. As for Frank, he stood before Gerard with his hazel eyes flicking back and forth across the troubled face of the man who had just kissed him, drained of all color. If Gerard had been willing to make eye contact, he would have been awed by how those incredible eyes of Frank's were somehow wider than ever before. Finally, the prolonged silence was ended by Frank rising up on his toes and pushing up Gerard's head with the force of his lips in an act that was not merciful, just right.

Frank's hands cautiously moved past Gerard's sides to the man's face. He ran his thumbs across Gerard's cheekbones, and Gerard pushed back into the kiss. Consent had been given, and it was accepted willingly by both parties who developed a rhythm, pushing into each other's mouths. Gerard's tongue flicked across Frank's lips, and Frank readily parted them. Their tongues moved with overwhelming curiosity, exploring each other's mouths, and with this new distraction, they didn't notice the rest of their bodies moving closer until they felt the burning heat of being chest to chest. Gerard could feel Frank's heart pounding into his; he hesitantly placed his hands on the center of Frank's back to pull him even closer.

Then Mikey banged on the door.

"We're heading out to get some food!" Mikey shouted. "Hurry up!"

Gerard and Frank jumped apart, but their intertwined state didn't allow them to get far. Eyes now opened, they froze, breathing into each other's mouths. Neither was certain of the correct next move, but they soon stepped away and collected themselves to the point at which they felt they could walk back outside. No words were said, but before Frank opened the door, he burst into the coy smirk he often wore, and Gerard smiled in a daze of ecstasy as he watched exit the room the guitarist with the rare beauty whom he had just kissed.


	10. Acknowledgement of the Apocalypse

This isn't a chapter. I just needed to acknowledge the crushing of concert-based dreams across the fandom because it would be downright inappropriate not to do so. Crying is to be had by all, I've done my share, but not being a band doesn't mean they can't still fuck. Did I just say that? THIS SHIP WILL SAIL!


	11. Chapter 10

Frank's tongue flicked into Gerard's surprised mouth. The initial shock of the kiss had left Gerard's jaw slightly slack and allowed Frank entry.

"I guess this means we're on good terms," Gerard surmised once he broke contact.

The morning following the gig and the subsequent night of celebration had cried out to be spent sleeping. For Frank, though, that was not an option. He had dragged himself through the motions of getting to the restaurant and preparing for the lunch rush, giving vague smiles and generic positive responses when his uncle asked him about the performance. No amount of coffee could pull him into full consciousness, but seeing Gerard waiting outside his door when he came home on his four o'clock break wasn't caffeine. It was so much more effective.

After some deliberation, Gerard had arrived at the top of the stairs in Frank's hallways with a single objective. He wanted to know what was to be made of the night before, and luckily for him, it was Frank's kiss that answered the question.

Frank kept one hand on Gerard's chest as he reached around to unlock the door, and once it was open, he used that hand to guide Gerard inside the empty apartment. The keys were dropped on the counter. Gerard reached out, pulled Frank's waist into his, and engaged him a kiss. To compensate for a slight disparity in their heights, Gerard had to crane his neck slightly downward and direct Frank's head upward with his index finger. This new kiss was not broken; instead, it was extended by a series of increasingly deep exchanges as the two young men's tongues found each other. Frank's hands slid up Gerard's firm chest and fell into place behind his neck.

The rhythm from the night before had been regained. Frank and Gerard pressed into each other with a sweeping intensity, and without realizing it Frank's back was pushed into the end of the jutting kitchen counter. It wasn't a problem that lasted long because Gerard easily lifted him onto the tile platform, briefly breaking the mouth-to-mouth contact but resuming it with his lips on Frank's jaw line. The smaller partner, left straddling Gerard's waist, was growing hard when Gerard ran his right hand down Frank's jean-clad thigh and rested it on his knee.

"We should really straighten this out," Gerard mumbled into Frank's neck. A low moan was the only response given. "Really, though," he continued and pulled his face away from Frank's, "what is this? Am I – are we – gay?"

Frank, though disappointed that Gerard's mouth was now being used just to speak, shook with a small laugh at the sudden question.

"I guess? I don't know," he answered honestly.

Gerard began to rapidly fire out words. "It just sort of hit me that if anyone ever knew about this, especially Mikey or someone I really care about, I don't know how I'd tell them. How is a person suddenly gay? I've just been with girls and –" Frank cut him off with a swift kiss.

"You're panicking," observed Frank.

Gerard sighed, "Sorry."

"It's okay." Then with a grin he added, "It's pretty cute."

"You, for the record, seem unreasonably calm."

"Really? Huh, I guess it's just that I've been through this before." Gerard gave him a perplexed look. "Well, I've had to think about my sexuality in the past, and it's come down to this: I wanted to kiss you in the hall, so I kissed you. It worked out. Labels get messy. I just know what I want in any given moment… but I understand the fear of letting anyone know. I've never told my parents that I'm anything but straight."

Gerard wondered briefly about why Frank had needed to question his sexuality. Was it just over that one crush on him? Both boys did nothing for an excruciating minute. Then Gerard cupped Frank's face in his hands and pulled him in for a kiss. Frank cocked an eyebrow once Gerard pulled away, probing him for some sort of answer.

Gerard simply explained, "I wanted to."

The two gladly fell back into their rhythm, engrossed in the new sensation of being tangled in one another. Time, however, wasn't on their side. Rapidly approaching them was Frank's return to work to prepare for the six o'clock evening opening of the restaurant, but after Frank slid off the countertop, he left Gerard with promising words.

"Come back tomorrow," he suggested. "It's my day off."

The encounter was ended reluctantly on both sides. Thursday was anxiously awaited, and when Frank got back home at eleven, it was the first thing on his mind. Mere hours separated him from his next meeting with Gerard, but it was difficult to wait with it gnawing at his brain. He felt compelled to do something in the present, so he settled for cleaning up the apartment. Only a few cushions could be moved in the main room if he was going to avoid touching Mikey's stuff. That left Frank's bedroom.

The floor of Frank's bedroom consisted more thoroughly of dirty jeans and socks than the dingy carpeting underneath them. Frank began to scoop up the clothing in his arms, but he was quickly confronted by a major problem. He had no place to put the laundry. Normally he just left in on the floor and stuffed it into plastic bags when he had a chance of claiming the one functioning washing machine downstairs. Now he needed a home for his clothing purgatory. The room was small, though, only accommodating a full bed that measured four and a half feet across and one three-drawer dresser. Clothes in hand, Frank skimmed his eyes across the room for a hiding place that didn't exist.

While Frank was caught in the middle of his dilemma, Mikey absentmindedly as ever pushed open the door and came inside; he had stopped knocking a few days prior to then.

"You got a letter from your parents," Mikey said.

Frank muttered thanks as he took the envelope in question from his roommate's hands, checked the return address, and set it down on his dresser.

Mikey stuck around to ask, "Am I the only one who's hungry? We should get some food."

"Well, it's almost midnight, and I ate at work but I think you can find some sandwich bread in the fridge," replied Frank.

"Is there anything to put on the bread, though?"

"I'll make no promises."

Mikey wandered out of Frank's room as casually as he had wandered in, and Frank was left with his previous task. Struck with inspiration, he relocated his meager supply of clean clothing to the top two drawers in the bureau and shoved into the bottom drawer the unclean mass of cloth that had been strewn across his floor. The letter was left ignored during this process, and it was further neglected when Frank chose to go to the kitchen and see what Mikey had found.

It turned out that there in fact weren't sandwich toppings. Mikey was picking apart a slice of plain bread, barred from forming a sandwich but too lazy to make anything more complicated. Frank wasn't too disappointed. A lack of food wasn't what was on his mind as he watched Mikey pull apart the fluffy bread; he was too busy being struck with thoughts of his roommate's brother who with any luck would be back the next day.


	12. Chapter 11

Thursday morning was spent by Frank trying desperately to pull together every loose end of his appearance. He showered early, and once he got out, he let the water roll off his body and pool in front of the bathroom mirror. A good hour was spent in front of that mirror in varying stages of appearance, culminating in his usual jeans and t-shirt get-up but probably cleaner. Frank walked toward the kitchen and jumped at the sight of Gerard already sitting on the counter. There was barely time for Frank to collect himself and remember that he and Mikey weren't the only ones with apartment keys before Gerard mumbled, "Hey,"; moved forward; and kissed him softly on the side of the mouth.

"Mikey is out, right?" pressed Gerard.

Frank just nodded, and in acceptance of the answer, Gerard slid his hands around Frank's waist and pushed in for another series of kisses that were designed not to decorate their time but to consume it. These kisses bore the kind of intensity that caused the two boy's noses to collide, but they didn't mind things like that. They were too wrapped up in each other. Despite this, their proximity was somehow increasing. Frank's wrists crossed behind Gerard's neck as his own neck became the subject of Gerard's attention.

Gerard's tongue trailed down to Frank's collarbone. While he did this, Frank allowed his head to loll to the side. He was practically crumbling under Gerard at this point, but he wasn't growing entirely limp. Both involved in the embrace were giving in quickly to the release of sexual tension, Gerard's form-fitting pants becoming uncomfortably tight. Gerard ran his fingers along Frank's waistband; when he made contact with the skin of Frank's lower back, the other boy reacted. Frank hooked a finger into the fabric around Gerard's collar, and Gerard pulled his head up in response to the gentle tug. Taking advantage of Gerard's face in front of his, Frank re-established contact between their mouths.

With a gentle pull, Frank led the way to his bedroom walking backwards. He could tell that he and Gerard were approaching the point where they wouldn't be able to support their activity standing in the middle of a living room, so the relocation was the logical next step. Their progress down the hallway was complicated by their apparent determination to maintain mouth-to-mouth contact, but even staggering as they were, Frank managed to find the door behind him. Jostled by reaching the dead end, the two parted ever so slightly, and Frank employed his eyes to silently extend the invitation.

When the two pushed into the bedroom, Frank spun them around, allowing himself to drive Gerard up against the wall across from the door. Frank only held the dominant position briefly. Gerard quickly corrected the arrangement by flipping Frank onto the wall instead, causing Frank to buck reactively into him. The force of Gerard's kisses pushing him up the wall, Frank pulled his legs up around Gerard's waist; he was immediately supported by a hand beneath him in addition the pressure already pinning him to the wall. He was almost painfully hard by this point and thankful for the chance to catch his breath when Gerard moved down once more to suck on his collarbone.

Frank buried his head into Gerard's neck and played with Gerard's hair. He loved the feeling of the hair at the top of Gerard's neck running through his fingers, and he breathed in the scent of the other boy's skin as he pushed into him. Both of the eager participants were fully entangled in each other, pushing into one another as if they were trying to become one person. They were so engrossed in the new sensations of one another that they didn't notice the sound of footsteps or hinges. Frank was occupied placing furious kisses on Gerard's neck when Mikey opened the bedroom door.

Frank's eyes only flicked up long enough to catch the other Way brother after a moment of pure shock had already been endured. Mikey stood entirely still, frozen in the process of enunciating whatever it was he had intended to say and instead staring at the bodies before him. Gerard, feeling Frank go equally still in his arms, let Frank slide back down the wall and turned around to face whatever blow he assumed was behind him.

The accidental witness weakly uttered, "Oh," and walked dazedly back out of the room.

"I think we just told Mikey," Frank surmised.

Gerard recovered from the surprise enough to toss out some words about how he should talk to his brother. He left the room, but not without giving Frank's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Mikey," Gerard called into the room at the other end of the hall. He was hesitant as to what he would say to his brother, but getting his attention was a safe start. Before opening the door on Mikey's bedroom, he knocked lightly. Knocking was such an underrated courtesy.

"Mikey, about the, uh," Gerard's usual charismatic demeanor was experiencing a brutal death under the uncomfortable circumstances.

"I was not aware," Mikey tersely asserted. He expressed an impressive refusal to relinquish his usual stoicism. The poker face was not going anywhere.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but it just happened really recently. I hadn't thought of the words to explain it yet… I still haven't thought of the words."

"So do you think you're gay?"

The corners of Gerard's mouth twitched before he and Mikey alike burst into a fit of laughter.

"Well," Gerard phrased after the laughter subsided, "that question pertains to the grand scheme of things, and I can't see grand schemes right now. I don't know that I'm going to be attracted to only men for the rest of my life, but event by event, things make sense." He glanced at Mikey's face. It was still unreadable. Gerard hoped he was following this. "Currently, in case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty into your roommate, and I want to act on that by doing things with him that, by the look on your face, will teach to knock on every door for the rest of your life."

Mikey smiled and rolled his eyes. Then he tensed up a little and offered, "Do you want me to go out for a while?"

"You don't look overtly thrilled about that…" Gerard sighed and pushed aside his own desires. "Because no one should have to know the exact time that a relative is doing something sexual, I won't make you leave. However," he added with an emphatically raised finger, "to make it fair, I get to eat dinner here, and you have to get something good."

The deal was struck. Gerard made his way back to Frank the second he left Mikey, realizing that he had left him alone. His return to Frank's bedroom quickly showed him that that was not the case, for Frank was sitting on his bed not alone but with his guitar. Gerard was surprised, as he hadn't heard any playing, but as he put a hand up to lean in the doorway, he saw that Frank was muting every note with his left hand.

"Let it ring," Gerard encouraged.

Frank looked up and complied, messing around with a series of aimlessly improvised riffs that this time could be heard for their beauty, if not very clearly on account of the electric guitar remaining unplugged. Gerard smiled at the thought of Frank immediately seeking the guitar as a source of comfort when tensions were high. Instruments were amazing like that. They could be dear friends, free of judgment who knew everything about you, even the things you didn't know how to say. They could help you give anything a voice and instantly empathized with it.

It would be nice, Gerard thought, to be that to a person. His relationship with Mikey felt almost like the kind a person could have with an instrument, but that was largely because they were family and were required to always have each other. Watching Frank, Gerard wondered somewhat wistfully what it would be like to have a pure form of the musician-to-instrument relationship between two people. He thought it must be like no other feeling to have someone who came to you first in times when they needed comfort, whom you understood with an open heart and who understood you in return and offered complete acceptance.

Gerard let Frank continue to play for an amount of time he couldn't quantify. By the end, he was slumped against the wall next to the door, staring at Frank on his bed just as he had been a week before, but this time he didn't have to worry about what Frank was thinking. He knew it through Frank's words, his actions, and the music he was playing right then. Even if there would be more Mikeys to explain his new relationship to, Gerard could feel relief and stability wash over him knowing that one hurdle was jumped: he knew what Frank wanted. He knew in every aspect of that moment that the boy sitting on the bed playing the quiet music wanted to be with him just as much as Gerard wanted the same. With this knowledge, they were slightly closer to understanding each other as much as Frank's guitar understood its player, and for that moment, that was enough.


	13. Chapter 12

A fair amount of time elapsed before the front door clicked shut. Upon hearing the cue, Frank sprang to his guitar case and put the instrument away.

"How did it go with Mikey?" he eagerly inquired.

Gerard chuckled a bit then asked, "You've been waiting all this time to ask that?"

"Well, yeah. I wasn't going to ask while Mikey was here. I'd be too worried that he'd hear us."

Taking a seat next to Frank on the bed, Gerard began to summarize the encounter. "He seems pretty okay with it. Oh, and I'm staying for dinner."

"Thank fucking God!" Frank threw his arms around Gerard and pulled him into a grateful hug. "I was not looking forward to spending time alone with him tonight."

The force of Frank's embrace toppled the smiling Gerard into the wall at the head of the bed, giving him a direct view of the room's solitary dresser.

"What's that?" he questioned.

"What's what?" came Frank's reply, muffled by his companion's shoulder.

"The letter," explained Gerard as he took the envelope in his hand.

When Frank pulled his head up to look at the object, he was surprised.

"I had forgotten about that." Gerard handed him the letter. "It's from my parents."

"Your parents send you letters?"

"This apartment doesn't have a functioning phone line."

"Living in high class, I see."

"I haven't read it yet," Frank said as he tore the envelope open and began to pour over the contents. Then his mouth dropped open.

"They're coming to visit," he explained, practically choking on the words. "Fucking shitfuck."

Gerard looked reasonably perplexed at this reaction. He understood not being thrilled about a visit from parents, but Frank looked genuinely frightened. More words came spilling from Frank to quell the curiosity.

"My parents," Frank began, "have a tendency of really not paying attention to anything I do. When I was a kid, I could be running around subway stations alone poking homeless people, and they wouldn't bat an eye. They only care what I'm doing if it's on their list of things that make _them _look bad or feel uncomfortable, not because it's good or bad for me, so if they are taking an interest in me, that means they're about to mess things up. It's like they have a fucking radar scanning for you, though. This is what happened the last time I knew you. You know, when I had to stop hanging out with you."

Frank's reaction to the letter suddenly made perfect sense.

"I can't lose you again, Gerard."

With one motion, Gerard pulled Frank back into his chest. The smaller boy surrendered easily.

"I wonder what they think I'm doing this time," Frank mused cynically.

Night fell and dinner came shortly afterward. Living up to Gerard's request of "something good", Mikey had brought home Chinese take-out. After distributing the food, Mikey took a seat on the arm of his shabby couch; he looked as if he had chosen the perch based on how quickly he could remove himself from it. Also feeling the tension acutely was Frank who intentionally leaned against a wall in a spot far removed from the two brothers. He wanted to give everyone space, but Gerard wasn't willing to allow it. When Gerard, as the last person to get his plate, moved into the living room, he took a seat on the floor right against Frank's leg.

The troops assigned to their posts, the battle began. It was fought subtly below the surface level of questions about work or someone's day, but the goal was in sight. There was to be a peace agreement by the end of the meal. Frank hoped it would involve him being able to live with Mikey without every conversation being this tense.

"Frank, you're thinking about college, right? Mikey could use some outside input," Gerard suggested. He had been working the hardest to keep the dinner remotely casual.

"Uh, yeah," answered Frank. "I figured I'd take a break year and then head off, but it sort of turned into two… Well, almost three. I'd like to go, though."

"This is the first semester Mikey hasn't enrolled in any classes. He wants to drop out for me, but I can't let him do that."

"Hey," Mikey protested, "I'm part of this band too. You have everything invested in this right now, and if you're going to be out of school putting everything into the band, I want to be there with you."

"But I also have a lot invested in my little brother, and I can't promise you a good future out of dropping everything to start a band."

Frank saw that Gerard wanted him to be a part of the conversation. In spite of the nagging feeling that a kid who was pushing college off for a third year had no qualifications to give life guidance, Frank offered his best commentary.

"It seems pretty good," he said. "I always did well in my classes; they were interesting. The only problem was the other students, but everyone is always saying what an amazing change college is in that respect."

Mikey replied encouragingly, "The rumors are true, for me at least. School is a totally different place once you've weeded out the jerks who don't want to be there. I was doing pretty well, but I want to be around for My Chemical Romance."

"I'll probably go back home and enroll at the end of the year," Frank commented, not noticing Gerard's slight wince at the words.

Mikey concluded, "I just want to focus on music for a semester or two. If it doesn't work out, I can always go back to school. Okay?"

The three had gotten pretty comfortable with each other for the duration of the meal, but Frank felt a creeping fear as they said their goodbyes. As Gerard stood in the doorway and gave his brother a parting hug, Frank found himself mouthing so only the one Way brother could see, "Don't go." Of course Gerard had to leave, though. Mikey went off to bed with few words spoken, and Frank took to washing the forks they had used and disposing of the stray trash. As he shoved in the last Styrofoam takeout container with its greasy remnants of noodles, he found the trash full, so he decided to put off sleep a while longer and trudge down four flights of stairs to take out the trash. Besides, he might catch Gerard on the way out.

Frank didn't catch Gerard while taking out the trash, but despite his hopes, he hadn't really expected to see him. When he made it back to the apartment feeling slightly winded from the workout the stairs gladly provided him, he went straight to the bathroom to wash his hands, splash some water on his face, and brush his teeth. Sleep wasn't a terrible option, even though he doubted it would come easily that night. He shuffled to his bedroom but was halted when he turned on the lights and illuminated Gerard's black-clad figure sitting on his bed.

"You said not to go," Gerard explained.

Startled, thrilled, nervous, and a little turned on, Frank made the first logical move: to mentally check that nothing had happened to make his appearance go to hell since he and Gerard had parted. Unable to think of any such problem, he continued the interaction.

"Thank you," Frank almost whispered. They were going to have to be quiet with Mikey sleeping at the end of the hall.

"No problem. I believe I still owe you something from earlier."

Frank moved toward the bed.

"You're not the one who owes anything," Frank said. Gerard raised his eyebrows incredulously. Frank continued. "You _stayed for dinner._ I know that couldn't have been any easier for you than it was for me, probably worse. I wouldn't have minded if you had gotten out of dodge."

"And leave you stuck here with my awkward brother? No. Someone had to diffuse the situation."

"Well," said Frank, resting his hands on the bed on either side of Gerard, "that doesn't change the fact that something is still unfinished."

When Frank leaned forward, Gerard accommodated his presence on the bed by inching himself farther back onto the mattress. Frank was quickly straddling Gerard, lips firmly attached to his. Gerard barely noticed him rocking before his pants were unreasonably tight, but the way Frank was gripping at his shirt, it didn't seem as if clothes were going to be a problem for long. The leather jacket that always seemed to be hanging from Gerard's frame had been cast off before Frank had even come in, so when Gerard's hands moved up, it was only to pull away a black shirt.

It was then that Frank pushed Gerard's back onto the mattress. Frank's old Misfits shirt still remained, but Gerard went to work solving that problem, nudging it farther and farther up his chest until Frank got the hint to take it off. When Frank descended back onto the boy in his bed, he ground down harder than before. His hand made an attempt at sliding directly into Gerard's pants from his chest, but to his dismay he had to take the time to undo his belt. It was gone soon enough, and sliding away after it were the pants it had been holding in place.

Frank's heart beat up into his throat. He was seeing Gerard naked, something he had thought about so many times – sometimes willingly, sometimes not. The full stretch of his pale skin lay beneath Frank, and Frank laid a kiss softer than the rest on Gerard's lips before going any further.

With the new arrangement, Frank stopped grinding, but it still wasn't long before Gerard had a full erection. Recognizing the need to move forward, Frank reached up to the container of lotion that was the sole object on his dresser aside from a box of tissues. He was an atheist, but he mentally pleaded with any powers that may have been out there that Gerard wouldn't ask any questions about that. He pumped some out onto his hand, and moved on to his true focus. Wrapping his hand around Gerard's hardened cock, he began an action he was all too familiar with performing on himself; it wasn't too difficult to figure it out on another person. He just did what he liked. As he moved his hand along Gerard's dick, he continued to take his thumb and run it over the tip. That always felt good.

Gerard held on fairly long, but in the midst Frank's tongue in his mouth and hand at work, he prepared for the end. He focused on muffling any noises as he came into Frank's hand. It may have been dumb, seeing as how this was where things were inevitably going, but Frank felt a glimmer of pride when he saw Gerard's face contort slightly with the orgasm and the effort to stay silent.

Gerard's body hummed in the aftermath while Frank wiped his hand with one of the tissues he hoped had gone unnoticed. In fact, he took advantage of the moment to swiftly conceal both the tissue box and the lotion in the dresser's top drawer to avoid further embarrassment. He collapsed back onto the bed at Gerard's side.

"I like staying for dinner," Gerard remarked and caused Frank to blush. The lights were still on, and now that their bodies had parted, Frank was feeling exposed, even if he wasn't the one with no clothes. Gerard himself rather hastily and awkwardly pulled his underwear back onto his body. The confidence he had expressed in his single comment was more for show than actually existent; he had never done anything sexual with a man before that night. It was unfamiliar, disorienting, but he would never wish for a minute that it hadn't happened. He had been the one to come back, after all; he was going to enjoy the result.

"I have work tomorrow," Frank muttered. Then he caught himself and added, "I swear that's not me blowing you off. I'm just thinking out loud." He internally kicked himself. Everything had actually gone well, and then he had of course said something like that and sounded like a complete ass.

"Yeah, Mikey's here too. I should probably get out of here before we have another one of those delightful confrontations," agreed Gerard, moving to re-apply the rest of his clothing. As he pulled on his shirt, he peered down the hall. "Hope he didn't hear anything."

Gerard paused in the doorway. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Both Frank and Gerard froze with locked eye contact. Then Gerard swooped in and pecked Frank once on the mouth before walking away, jacket in hand. Frank rolled onto his side and began the fight for sleep on a night when his heart never stopped racing.


	14. Chapter 13

Work on Friday wasn't as bad as it could have been for someone functioning on four hours of sleep. Frank was exhausted, certainly, but the pleasurable, loopy kind of tired. If you spend the night attending the concert of a lifetime, then no matter how many times you fall asleep standing the next day, you just can't bitch about it. That was how Frank felt; in spite of his sleep deprivation, he was having a great day basking in the afterglow of his time with Gerard.

"You'll never get anything off of a dish scrubbing like that," Uncle Henry grumbled. There was a stubborn tomato skin clinging to the white plate in Frank's hand. It was Frank's fault that it had been allowed to dry to the ceramic surface, but he was pretty confident in his ability to fix it. Whatever anyone was doing, though, Uncle Henry always pressed another method of getting it done, and you bet he always insisted his way was better.

"If it's stuck like that, you have to scrub in a circular motion," the middle-aged man corrected, demonstrating his method with a chubby hand. "That's it… Frank, you know your parents are coming, right?"

"Yeah, how did you know?" answered Frank drowsily.

"They called me almost a week ago. Wanted help finding a hotel where they can spend time in the city. Mary was supposed to tell you."

Frank grunted. He would have appreciated the heads-up. Mary could be so loud and controlling, but of course when she had a week to mention to Frank that his parents had called, she was a mute. It was honestly bizarre, but Frank wasn't up to riddling things out that day. He just shrugged it off as bad luck.

The night Frank's heart would not stop racing, Gerard set out into the sharp October cold with a destination other than home. He arrived at the little nameless club around nine and walked upstairs to get behind the bar – not his favorite side but the side that made him money nonetheless. Jill was there, glaring at him. He bowed his head and pulled a meek smile with wide eyes. Gerard preferred looking a little tougher and more in control, but to be in control this time he would have to make the shy face that always melted his boss.

"You were supposed to be here at eight tonight," Jill reprimanded.

"I thought we agreed I had vacation time," teased Gerard.

"Yeah, you're supposed to tell me first," Jill teased back. "So was she any good?"

"Huh?" Gerard jumped.

"The girl you were off seducing. I mean, when a guy like you shows up an hour late with no explanation, I can only assume you were using your master charm to get someone into bed."

Gerard was actually pretty skillful with women sometimes. He had a suave act he could manage, and if he maintained it when meeting a girl, he usually experienced good results. The life he had in the present was nothing like his life in high school, where everyone already knew everyone else and made their judgments, and where it was only a matter of time before you disappointed the people who actually liked you for a minute. In a huge city and a club with so many different faces filing in and out of it each night, Gerard was constantly presented with a sea of new people who had no preconceived judgments of him. A guy who pretended to be cool could have a pretty good sex life as long has he didn't give away too much information about himself. It was when people knew things about you that the judgment started. Sometimes the act didn't work, but tonight Jill's guess was on the money. Well, sort of.

The fact remained that Frank was not a girl. It was true that mere hours ago Gerard had known exactly what he wanted, but hours ago he had not been jerked off by a guy. His mind was on overload, mainly reviewing his actions for something he had done wrong other than show up late for work. He wondered if Frank even knew what job he had kept him from. Gerard bartended at Jill's club, but he wasn't sure he had ever told Frank that. After all, they had only known each other again for a month. When they had known each other before, Frank had only been thirteen. Four years wasn't a problem now, but an 18-year-old and a 13-year-old was. Gerard didn't actually know the rule on whether their behavior was still okay if they had known each other then. Also, as for the night's interaction itself, Gerard couldn't help but fret over details; he wondered whether he was supposed to have returned the favor…

"Hey! Excuse me!" a shrill voice called from the other end of the bar, piercing Gerard's stream of consciousness.

"Mm, uh, yes? Sorry. What would you like?" Gerard pulled himself back to the work at hand.

"No need to be sorry." The girl pulled a coy smile. Her face was pale and smooth, marked only by a silver stud in her nose. "I'll have rum and coke. My name's Korina, by the way."

Gerard got to fixing her drink. "Nice to meet you, Korina."

She took her drink with a delicate hand and leaned forward onto the bar. "I don't get to know your name?"

Grinning down toward the glass for his next order, Gerard told Korina his name, and her smile grew.

"I saw you play here a few days ago, _Gerard._ Your band is really good. There are times I'd do just about anything for good music."

The nauseating way she emphasized Gerard's name and the way she kept creeping closer to him over the bar raised his alertness, but as she kept talking that same alertness helped him to see that she wasn't bad looking. He was able to prolong this observation because Korina stayed for a while. At eleven, she was still exchanging occasional words with Gerard. By midnight, she was meeting her friends in the band that had just finished their set. When Gerard saw the clock approach 2 a.m., she said goodbye to her friends, wandered back to the bar, and sat back down in front of him.

"You work hard, don't you?" she asked, running her fingers along the cold surface of the bar top.

"I guess," Gerard answered, glad to have her back as a distraction from his thoughts.

"Jesus, where did all the people go?"

"It _is _closing time, but you can stay for a while if you want. It gets pretty quiet at the end of the night." He didn't want too much time alone, and he still had to close up.

"I've always wondered what it would be like to be in a place like this all alone at night." Korina glanced over her shoulder at the last of the crowd walking out the door. Jill was probably still there, holed up in some back room, but most of the building was empty.

"But that's when the monsters come out," Gerard explained. Korina flashed him a playfully inquisitive look, so he leaned forward with his elbows on the bar in front of her. He pointed at the ceiling several yards away. "That loose plate in the up there always looks suspicious to me. Were I some creature of the night, that would be exactly the place I'd be dropping in through to snatch up my victims."

"Aren't you worried whatever is up there is going to get you one of these days?"

"Nah, I like to think whatever monster is up there and I are on good terms. Lord knows we've spent enough time together."

"We'll be safe then."

Korina then pressed her lips to Gerard's. He moved his hands to hold her, sliding them over soft skin and familiar curves. The familiarity was calming, but it was just her body that he seemed to know. After all, Korina was a girl he had just met. Gerard was certain that if she knew anything about him past the minimum information she was then aware of, she wouldn't have deemed him worthy of her attention and his hand wouldn't have been moving under her shirt. Only Frank offered him that kind of acceptance; he had been doing it for seven years. It was when Gerard struck on that thought that Korina's tongue in his mouth began to feel like a claw in his chest.

As the claw pulled at him, Gerard was filled with disdain for himself. Being with Frank was going to be more difficult than a relationship with a girl, but that didn't give Gerard the right to not suck it up and commit. He knew that, but he kept going back and forth on what he wanted like a child who wants to swim running out to meet the ocean tide and running back the instant the shock of the cold meets his skin.

Korina broke the kiss and flashed the coy grin she had used earlier. Her smile was cute... Not as cute as Frank's. It didn't matter whether Korina was female; that didn't make her better for the man she was seducing. Frank wasn't a man, he was a person, and goddammit, Gerard wanted that person. It dawned on the distraught bartender that familiarity was nice, and the sand was warm. The ocean, though, was beckoning, and in the sea there was so much more for him. Now was past the time, Gerard thought, to make a commitment. No more bullshit. Gerard pushed the words out of his mouth, and Korina went with them.

"You're a very nice girl, but I shouldn't," he said.

Korina asked, "Are you sure?" Disappointment laced her words.

"Yeah, go catch up with your friends."

Korina managed a half-hearted smile out of politeness as she walked out of the building. Slumping into the bar, Gerard collected himself before finishing cleaning up. He looked back to the loose plate in the ceiling and addressed whatever monster may have been hiding there.

"I… am gay," he declared matter-of-factly, punctuating his wiping of the bar top with glances up to the creature he decided was listening. "I am gay because, as much as I avoid admitting it, I've been attracted to many guys. And now there is a person in my reach who is one of best people I know, and if it means I get to be with him, I am gay. Now you know. You can consider yourself privileged."

Gerard waved his hands toward the loose panel, and it was done. He had admitted he was gay, and the world hadn't ended. No monster had descended from the ceiling and ended his life. He and that monster were friendly, after all. No one else even had to know, but he could say it to himself – and the creature in the rafters. As of that declaration, if anything was going to stop him and Frank from being together it would have to come from someone else.


	15. Chapter 14

It wasn't long before a mix of connections and effort got the band a handful of gigs lined up in the small venues dotting the city. The album wouldn't be released for several months, but the guys weren't about to sit still and wait for the release before making sure people knew their name. They were planning to put more work than ever into their performance, and that was why they were meeting up to practice… At Mrs. Way's house.

Gerard and Mikey were attempting to multi-task by using their mutual day off both for the band and to visit their mother. They had promised the rest of the band that they would have plenty of space to practice in the garage, so Frank was headed to the house that Gerard grew up in. Gerard had shown up at the house back in New Jersey a day earlier than the others, so he generously drove the old, somewhat rickety family car into the city to pick up everyone else on the day of their practice. Ray and Matt came to wait for the ride outside of Mikey's apartment, and when Frank walked out to meet them with his guitar, he was greeted by curiosity and disbelief in the eyes of his band mates.

Mikey's eyes couldn't be read because he was desperately avoiding eye contact with his roommate. He didn't say anything, but his posture was drenched in apology. It struck Frank that they must know about his relationship, and as Gerard pulled up, it also dawned on him that he was about to be trapped in a car for well over an hour with people who currently saw him as a spectacle. It was even worse when he thought of where they were going. At Mrs. Way's home not only would he be alienated from his friends, he would be in the most threatening unfamiliar environment: that of a parent. Gerard's parent.

Frank crawled into the car last, securing a window seat because sitting between Matt and Ray would probably be hell. He wondered why people bothered visiting family. They were judgmental, comfortable enough with you to be aggressive, and forged an interest in your life only out of obligation. Personally, Frank only visited family when forced. He was going to have to see his own parents in two days; he didn't need to deal with someone else's family.

Maybe if it were Matt or Ray's family it would be different. Then again, a family is a family, and the thing is that they're all messed up. Whoever you are, when your relatives get together, it's never a walk in the park. It's not Thanksgiving if the turkey hasn't been basted in someone's tears or sliced with passive aggressive gashes that mar the dish beneath it. Frank was no longer sure he wanted the car ride to be over with so quickly, and as tense conversation adorned the trip, he wondered whether Gerard also sensed that Mikey had told Ray and Matt about them.

The ride ended without an answer to that query, and Frank had to face the next trial of the day. The Way home he stood before wasn't the one that he had frequented in the summer of 1995. Gerard's parents had divorced since then, and his mother's new suburban home was nice if not uninspired. It was a bland color fronted by a lawn that rivaled the paintjob with its own lifeless shade of brown. Frank helped move the instruments and equipment up the concrete driveway and leaned his guitar case against one of the storage bins that lined the walls of the garage.

The gang was then ushered through the gates of doom which led abruptly to a kitchen occupied by a soft woman loading a dishwasher.

"Hi, mom," Mikey embraced his mother, turning her attention toward the guests in her home.

She gushed, "How have you been, Mikey? I don't get any news from you now that there's no phone in that apartment of yours. I'll never understand how you can live there."

"I didn't choose to only be able to afford a piece-of-shit, mom," her son jested back.

Gerard came back from hanging up the car keys and began to introduce everyone who wasn't a Way.

"This is Ray and Matt," Gerard started.

"Of course, I know them," she said, radiating warmth. "How are you doing, boys?"

A couple positive replies were muttered.

"And this is Frank."

Frank blushed heavily and directed his eyes at the ground. Under the pressure of the woman's kind and curious eyes, he felt almost guilty, like some good-for-nothing kid who had stolen the preacher's daughter. She looked at him extremely carefully, examining him to an excess, so his discomfort was prolonged. Frank wasn't sure how many prying eyes he could take in a single day. In the end, Mrs. Way just smiled.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Frank."

Sighing with profound relief that the world hadn't just ended, Frank walked with the other boys into the living room where they sat down holding the drinks Mrs. Way had offered them. Gerard stayed behind in the kitchen with his mother, and Frank eyed them furtively. Mrs. Way was smiling at her son and she pulled him into a hug that was much more than the standard greeting embrace she had used on Mikey. Her arms pulled him tightly into her chest for a long time, and she rocked him slightly before releasing him and nudging his head up with her fingers under his chin. She grabbed the car keys and walked out the door that adjoined the garage to the house; her son joined his friends in the living room.

A casual banter began among the boys as they adjusted to their environment. They planned to start practicing their music before Mrs. Way got home from what Gerard said was grocery shopping. Unfortunately, that didn't happen because the mother and host came back through the door in about ten minutes.

Exasperated, she explained, "The car finally did it; it broke down in the driveway. See, Gerard, this is what I was warning you about when you took it out this morning."

There were some sympathetic mutters. Ray even offered to walk to the store and get the groceries himself; Mrs. Way graciously declined. The store was too far. Even getting the car towed to a mechanic would take a while, and by the time it got there the repairs would probably keep the car there overnight.

"Oh, what are we going to do to get you boys home? Do you all have work in the morning?" Mrs. Way asked with a start.

Ray sweetly assured her, "Don't worry. I don't have to be in until the afternoon tomorrow."

"Same here," added Matt.

"What about the rest of you?" Mrs. Way asked with a furrowed brow.

They nodded and shrugged, assuring her that she didn't need to worry. She looked apologetic anyway.

"I'm so sorry," she sighed.

"It's okay, mom. Don't stress over it," cooed Mikey.

"I hope this isn't _too_ terrible for any you. You're going to have to stay until the car is up and running. I'll get the bedrooms ready. You can all stay here for the night."


	16. Chapter 15

A/N: I took an unplanned break from this. When I came back to it, I began revising old chapters rather than writing more. I'm still doing that (I'm on chapter six), but I'm going to try to re-start frequent updates.

* * *

Frank was still anxious three hours later when the guys were done practicing and watching television. He could lose himself in the music for all of 40 seconds before the stress of the upcoming night would hit him and make it hard for him to even form a chord. Now he was stuck on a couch in front of endless reruns of 90's sitcoms with the remnants of his lunch in his lap, and he was awaiting his impending demise.

He stood to take his plate to the kitchen, and another episode of "Dharma and Greg" ended. There really wasn't anything else on, and pretty soon yet another episode had run its 30 minutes. Each of the episodes blurred together and surreptitiously consumed the precious time separating Frank and the night. It was an alarming rate, really, and Frank was convinced that no other genre of television could suck a person's life away so effectively. Dharma was panicking over having punched some guy who probably deserved it, and Greg was trying to talk some sense into her when Gerard leaned over from the other end of the couch.

"Are you getting weird vibes off of Matt and Ray?" Gerard muttered only loud enough for Frank to hear.

Frank half-whispered back, "You've noticed too?"

"Mikey told them, didn't he? Little bastard."

"Don't be too hard on him. He looks like he's feeling guilty. Besides, did you even ask him to stay quiet?"

"Well, no, but, Christ, it's only been a week. He couldn't keep his mouth shut for seven days?"

"Let him focus his energy on keeping himself alive. A few days ago he brought a heater into the shower with him."

"Oh, _God_. That is the brother I trusted a secret with. No wonder everyone knows about us." Frank sighed. At least he wouldn't have to suffer Matt and Ray's abrasive curiosity alone.

The current of sitcoms carried them swiftly to dinner. Fortunately, the focus of dinner conversation for Mrs. Way was her own children, and Frank only had to supply brief answers to a couple questions given out of courtesy. She, Gerard, and Mikey did bicker about the latter's education and whether he should be in college, but this time Gerard didn't drag Frank into it. All Frank had to do was keep his eyes on his plate… Then it was time to sleep.

Mrs. Way explained the sleeping arrangements simply. She had reserved rooms for her son's visits. The boys were going to split up, and each of them could sleep in either Mikey's room or Gerard's room. Frank quickly became familiar with the conflict Gerard had known so well lately. The two things he wanted desperately were to be with Gerard and to be away from him. With all the stress here, he needed to cling to the person he knew was on his side, but he also got the feeling that the universe would implode if he chose Gerard's room.

Frank had to act quickly; Ray was already off to Mikey's room. Then Matt chose to follow Gerard. That settled the matter because, honestly, Matt still made him uneasy. He gave off this vibe like people were constantly pissing him off.

Mikey was in his room with Ray, throwing quilts and blankets onto the floor beside the single bed that was pushed against the wall. Frank joined in silently. Mrs. Way dropped off some extra bedding, and when the pile constituted a makeshift mattress, Mikey collapsed onto the real bed. It was painfully quiet as they prepared to sleep. Then, as Frank was stripping down to get more comfortable, Ray caved to his curiosity and spoke.

"What is it like being with a guy?" Ray asked bluntly. Frank's jeans were down by his ankles.

"You really had to ask that as I'm taking my pants off?" Frank grumbled.

"Cut him some slack," interjected Mikey. "He's just sexually frustrated because Jill doesn't notice the puddle of drool he forms every time she walks into a room." Frank raised his eyebrows in surprise. This was new. "You can actually see his hair getting bigger with the buildup of sexual tension." Frank giggled when he noticed that Mikey was right. Ray had an impressive head of wild brown curls, and it _was _looking larger than usual.

"Hey! She's noticed. She gave me this look the last time I saw her like she totally knew I was after her." Ray wiggled his eyebrows. "I think she was into it."

Mikey's eyes rolled so hard that they may have fallen out of his head. "Sure," he said. "But, back on topic - for Frank's sake and mine - abort your question."

Whether or not he needed to provide one, Frank couldn't help but wonder what the answer to Ray's question was. How would he describe 'being with' a guy? Well, more specifically, being with Gerard. He and Gerard hadn't done anything since that one time, so he didn't have much to go on. The word to describe the encounter was, honestly, awkward – with a little touch of awesome. The touch of awesome was important because it was that touch that was driving Frank insane wanting to do it again. The next time, though, he wanted to do it correctly, without the awkwardness.

While Frank was mulling the question over, Ray obediently put his curiosity on hold, but only for a few minutes. He soon blurted out, "So, what is it like then?" Mikey immediately chucked a pillow at him.

"That's my brother you're asking about!" Mikey shouted.

"Calm down, ladies," a voice called from the doorway.

Gerard made his way in with Matt behind him. They sat down with Frank and Ray in the pile of blankets and pillows.

"How's the room, Mikey?" Gerard continued.

"Not bad," Mikey answered, shrugging. "But you have to wonder why Mom has them ready for us. It's like she's counting down the minutes until we have to move back home."

"Cool. My room had an ironing board in the middle of it, so I'm not nearly as convinced that she's ready to have us back with her fulltime... It's a nice house, though. Sucks that she had to wait to get it until she and Dad split."

"Why did she have to wait?" Ray prodded. "Wouldn't she want a house like this when she was still raising a family?"

Gerard grimaced a little. "Our parents were always at odds with each other. How they used their money was a big topic for them, and Dad was always trying to hold onto cash for who-the-hell-knows-why. They didn't want to divorce, though, until Mikey and I were out of the house, so Mom, saint that she is, had to wait until now to do what she wanted."

"They probably should have ended it sooner," Mikey added. "Then at least when I was stuck at home, I could have had some quiet." He turned to Ray. "Gerard doesn't remember this because he was older and could just leave, but the fighting got so bad some days, especially after he had left for college and Mom and Dad were just counting down the days until they could split. Mrs. Torres – the woman next door - used to hear them screaming at each other and come get me. She'd give Mom and Dad this speech about how little old ladies need help with their houses and then ask if she could 'borrow' me."

Ray looked like he regretted prying into the subject. "My home was pretty messed up too," Ray offered as consolation. "My parents were so scared of the neighborhood that I wasn't really allowed outside. I'd sit in my room playing guitar all day, but my mom filled the house with these bright colors everywhere – just yellow and orange and pink. They slowly sucked away my sanity if I stayed home too long."

"I know the pain of a mother's decorating," Mikey empathized. "When I as little, I was terrified of the dark, and my mom had this porcelain doll collection that was really fucking creepy. I tried to get her to lock them up in a cupboard, but she never would… Despite all of that, I still preferred home over high school." The entire room grunted in agreement. "My best high school memory is when I graduated and didn't have to go back." Mikey chuckled and added, "The teachers thought there was something wrong with me because I wouldn't talk to other kids. I was almost playing mind games with them."

Ray snorted laughter. "Of course," he said.

"Hey, I know for a fact your high school days weren't any better. You went to school with Gerard; don't assume he didn't tell me anything about you."

"What?!" Frank exclaimed. "Why has no one mentioned anything about this?"

"We weren't that close," explained Ray. "But there was a loose friendship, mainly because neither of us was popular. Actually, to sum up our high school years: We were birth control." Gerard grinned at the last statement.

"Yeah, Ray and I didn't get to know each other very well until later. I was this weird loner kid who got drunk all the time." Gerard's voice forced levity onto the statement that was clearly unnatural, and Frank stiffened. He was learning a lot of new things about Gerard. Of course when they first met, Gerard had told him that high school had sucked, but Frank figured that was normal. He had idolized Gerard as the older, mysterious friend who had already beaten it all.

"Around other people, I could pass the drinking off as being a wild teen," Gerard continued. "When people don't know you, they're ready to buy the explanation that weigh lightest on their minds. I found solace at the comic book store, but from there I'd go home alone, maybe talk to Mikey, raid the cabinets for booze, sit in my room drinking alone, and then call it a day. It wasn't necessarily my choice, but… I just wasn't very sociable I guess." He shrugged and cast his head down.

All of Frank's senses were alive with the urge to enfold Gerard's body in his and offer him some form of comfort for a past it was too late to change. Frank moved forward, almost fulfilling his desperate compulsion, but then he realized that there were other people in the room. He froze at Gerard's side with his hands in front of his chest and looked to Mikey. They locked eyes for only a moment, but Frank's intention was understood. Mikey gave a slight nod.

Frank threw his arms around Gerard's shoulders and pulled him fiercely into his chest. Gerard's head flicked upward in surprise, but he relaxed himself into the hug. If Frank held the man in his arms together with enough force, he felt that maybe the boy sitting alone with the empty bottles had a chance of feeling it. What a waste of loneliness on a person who was so worthy of love. Ray shifted a bit on his pillow; however, neither he nor Matt said anything.

"So, Matt," Mikey said, "I believe it's your turn to share a tale of miserable childhoods."

"I think I'll pass," Matt replied. "High school is awful and all, but if we hear another pity story, even the damn furniture in this room with be on antidepressants."

"Tell me about it," Frank concurred. All the energy was drained from his voice, and his chin was resting on the head of the person into whom he had poured it all. "God forbid we get to prom experiences. My date ended up sleeping with my friend."

"Aaaaaand I'm looking for a shrink who will administer drugs to chairs," Mikey joked.

The following laughter ended the discussion, and everyone fell asleep. Everyone but Frank. Maybe it was the fact that the blankets made a terrible cushion between him and the floor, but he couldn't keep his eyes closed. Entirely restless, he cautiously crept out of the bedroom and toward the living area. He peered at the items on a small table by the couch. The eternal glow of New Jersey light pollution seeping between the blinds allowed him to examine them more closely. Then he heard a noise in the kitchen.

Frank jumped back and knocked a framed photo over in the process. As he scrambled to pick it up, Mrs. Way stuck her head into the living room.

"Frank," her muted voice called across the room, "do you need something?"

"Uh, um, no," Frank answered, moving closer to address her. "I just can't sleep."

"Neither can I. I'm a hopeless insomniac. I was hoping to talk to you, actually, before you left. Come into the kitchen."

Upon entering the lit room, Frank watched Mrs. Way walk over to the sink.

"I get most of my cleaning done at night," she explained.

Frank noticed a pile of half-washed dishes. "May I help?" he asked.

"No, that's fine; I'm almost done. Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?" Frank shook his head 'no', but she nonetheless brought him a glass of water once he sat down at the table.

"Are you and Gerard doing alright? He's told me a lot about you," Mrs. Way inquired. It was a strange way to phrase that question; at least Frank thought so. He chose his words carefully.

"Both Gerard and I are doing well."

"And as a couple? Or are you not calling it that yet?" Frank choked on his water. Mrs. Way came over to him half laughing and asked whether he was okay.

"You know about all of that?" wheezed Frank.

"Well, I don't need to know about _all _of it, but he told me yesterday before the rest of you got here that he wasn't straight and that you two were involved." She smiled. "It wasn't a surprise. I've known Gerard wasn't straight since he was in grade school. A mother can tell. And when he started calling me, telling me about the old friend he had found with the amazing guitar playing and the bright, enthusiastic eyes, I knew what was happening."

Frank stared at her in utter shock for a while longer before commenting, "You've taken it really well."

"It seems like you're having more trouble with this conversation than I am."

"I just don't expect this kind of, uh, casual acceptance from parents. I'm terrified of mine coming into town. Gah, I only have a few more days."

"What makes you sure you can't open up to them?"

"With my parents, I need to be the person they want me to be. I'm in their peripheral vision until I become anything they don't approve of, and then I'm front and center… Then they find a way to take the things I've chosen for myself."

"You've thought about this a lot." She let out a long breath. "You seem like a very nice boy. Both my sons like you, and Gerard cares about you so much. What he doesn't say I can hear in his voice every time he brings you up. I can't promise you anything with your parents, and I'm sorry you have to deal with that. But if you take care of my son, you will always have a place here."

Both Frank and Mrs. Way smiled. It was a warm exchange, and Frank returned to bed feeling that warmth throughout his body. Working his way through the hallway, he stopped and glanced into Gerard's room at the sleeping figure with black hair strewn across his face. He looked calm. It must be nice to have no more secrets. When Frank finally slept, his dreams were nowhere near peaceful.


	17. Chapter 16

"I'm going to romance you."

Those are the words that began Gerard and Frank's official relationship. After the guys got back into the city, Gerard confronted Frank with a well-planned speech expressing how they should do things 'the right way'.

"Uh, I think we sort of jumped passed that," Frank replied.

"No, that's because everything was confusing then and, um, urgent." Gerard swallowed. "You deserve better. We are doing this properly, and, as of now, we have a date."

"When? I work most days, and you work at the club. That's nights gone too."

"Come by the club tomorrow night. I'll be there. We can have drinks, talk. Normal dating stuff."

"I'm not sure the bartender is supposed to serve himself drinks," noted Frank.

"I'm not supposed to do a lot of things," Gerard retorted, grinning broadly.

Frank followed Gerard's directions and showed up at the-club-with-no-name not just on Saturday but for the following five nights. Never before had a guy paid Frank the kind of flirtatious attention he met there. Gerard pulled out a barrage of conversation skills and charm. Whether he and Frank were asking questions like they were strangers or speaking like old friends, Gerard kept eye contact with an intensity that both enraptured and occasionally flustered Frank. It went on like that until Wednesday night.

"Now," said Gerard, barely looking away from Frank even to prepare the next customer's order, "if you were stranded on a deserted island, what would you want to have with you?"

Frank pursed his lips and thought for a moment before saying, "Books. I'm such a sissy."

"Books are a perfectly valid choice. I'd definitely bring something like that. Something that would help me pass the time in peace, let my mind be somewhere else."

Looking to the shining silver hands of the clock behind the bar, Frank huffed. "My parents are probably at my uncle's by now," he said. "I'm supposed to stop by tonight before they go back to their hotel. How much were my drinks?"

"You know I'm never going to let you pay for them. I'll cover the bill."

"You win this time, but only because I don't have time to fight with you." Frank stood to leave. He gave Gerard a quick kiss, and, seeing him pout shamelessly, spared a last question before he walked away. "What would _you_ want on the deserted island?"

"I'd want you," answered Gerard. Frank laughed. That was by far the corniest thing Gerard had said all night.

Saying hi to his parents was at least a bearable trip for Frank. They were tolerable people most of the time, and they were all pleasant greetings when Frank entered the room. However, they gave no clues as to why they were really visiting.

The cousin Frank worked with, Mary, was there, so after basic conversations with his parents, he tried to spend the time he was obliged to stay at his uncle's house talking to her. He was fairly unsuccessful. She barely made eye contact with him.

The reason for Mary's behavior was completely beyond Frank, and he was soon distracted by his parents once again. Everything was acceptable until the visit's last few minutes which left Frank cursing himself for even showing up. In that time, his parents invited themselves over to Frank's apartment for dinner the next night.

The next day Frank, Mikey, and Gerard busied themselves cleaning the tiny apartment in their free time. Frank bought some pre-cooked dinners that he thought would look acceptable on the few plates he and Mikey owned, and Gerard brought over a small table and some folding chairs that just fit with the couch pushed against the wall. In exchange for his help, Gerard became the third person to invite himself to dinner. Even after being warned that he couldn't tell Frank's parents anything about a relationship with their son, he was insistent on meeting them.

The three boys were tense and silent as the clock struck seven. Then there was a knock. Frank pulled back the door to reveal two people. On the right was his mother, a lean woman who was smiling with a sickening, unsettling sweetness; on the left, his father, a robust man, looked Frank and his companions up and down as if he were evaluating them on the spot.

"Hi, Frank," his mother cooed. "It's a real trip getting up the stairs. I would never be able to live in an apartment like this."

"Well, it works for me," Frank replied with a dire lack of emotion. His father matched his disinterest in small-talk and simply nodded in greeting as he strolled inside.

"Hi, I'm Mikey. I'm the other person who has to live here," the scrawny roommate explained. Then, after a beat, he gestured toward the person beside him and added, "This is my brother Gerard." Mikey was pretty good at handling the formalities of introductions, and he managed to get the first words out of Frank's father.

"I've been very interested in meeting you," responded the stern-looking man. He accepted handshakes from both of the brothers, all the while narrowing his probing eyes on Mikey.

"It was nice of your uncle to give you the night off," Mrs. Iero commented. Uncle Henry had let Frank skip work to eat with his parents, but not without warning him 'not to make a habit out of it.'

"Uh, if you want to sit, I have some dinner ready," Frank offered.

Small talk was revived as Frank served dinner, and it persevered well into the meal. Was Frank liking New York? When would he be going back to college? Had Mikey or Gerard gone to college? How was the band? You know, it's not a stable income, but were they enjoying it? Frank couldn't place much weight on these questions. He was just waiting for the bomb to drop. As cynical as it sounded, his parents wouldn't be eating dinner in his apartment for no reason.

"What do you do for a living, Mr. Iero?" Mikey asked.

"I'm a therapist," he replied. Even in all his present politeness, Mikey couldn't help but look surprised. The man didn't exactly look like a shoulder to cry on.

"You can tell he's so full of warmth and understanding," Frank remarked sarcastically.

"Warmth isn't my job. I help people work through their problems, however I find I should do it. It's a professional risk for me to get attached." Frank smirked. "Your cousin Mary has been talking to us. She comes back to New Jersey frequently. Apparently things have been changing for you, but you never call us, so if it weren't for her we wouldn't even know."

"Sorry," Frank grumbled. His mother became intensely focused on her plate as her husband continued to speak. It was a good move on her part because the direction his speech took alarmed the whole table.

"Apparently you've been talking about one person a lot. He keeps showing up in conversations at work, and from what Mary said, it doesn't seem like you and this man are merely friends." Frank, Mikey, and Gerard's stomachs all dropped.

"What are you getting at?"

"Your mother and I both know, Frank. You can't expect to just keep us in the dark. It isn't difficult to figure out that you're in a," he coughed," romantic relationship with your roommate. Erm, Mikey."

Mikey nearly choked on his food.

"Yeah, okay, Dad, you caught me," Frank sighed. Mikey nearly choked again, and Gerard stared in disbelief. "Why was Mary even telling you this?"

"She was worried about you – understandably."

"So what now?"

"Sessions. I would like to see you and Mikey several times while your mother and I are here. Then maybe you two can talk through this and find yourselves in a healthier place." Frank glared at his parents.

"… Deal. But until the first session, you should probably get out of our apartment."

That was it. Frank watched his parents walk out the door. He knew now why they were in New York. All that remained after their unpleasant departure was the sound of their son aggressively scrubbing the dirty dishes.

Frank exclaimed, "Shit!" as the fork he was assaulting with dish soap slipped out of his hands. Before he could grab it himself, Gerard picked it off the floor.

"I realize that was stressful and that you're in the middle of some very passive-aggressive dishwashing, but you should probably explain what just happened," said Gerard.

"My parents are the reason I haven't seen you in seven years. I don't exactly want to put you in their line of fire again."

"Ah... " Gerard replied, trying to put the pieces together accurately. "So if they try to make you stop 'seeing' Mikey, it's no big problem because they're looking the wrong way?"

"Exactly. If they want to believe Mikey is their problem, let them. No need to tell them anything that can be used against us. It's Fifth Amendment rights."

Gerard laughed. "I can just picture the forefathers putting that in place so that people for years to come could hide their secret boyfriends."

_Boyfriend. _Frank couldn't help but like hearing that.

Mikey, quiet up to that point, finally voiced his consent. "I'm in," he said. "I mean, if it will make things easier for you guys, I may as well." Frank smiled in thanks. "Now, if you would like to be on your way, Gerard, my boyfriend and I have some cleaning up to do," Mikey teased.


End file.
